Let's Talk Terror
by Crescent Venus
Summary: Pulled into another case, Sabrina and her new partner must investigate a decades-old mystery where five people vanished from an elevator one stormy night... Crossover with the Disney/Twilight Zone's Tower of Terror. Part 2 of the Spirit Detective Files.
1. Into Thin Air

_You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension. A dimension of sound. A dimension of sight. A dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into...The Twilight Zone._

_This story of the Twilight Zone is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction…_

_Hollywood, 1939. Amid the glitz and the glitter of a bustling, young movie town at the height of its golden age, the Hollywood Tower Hotel was a star in its own right; a beacon for the show business elite. Now, something is about to happen that will change all that._

_Let us go back…to a stormy night full of possibilities…_

* * *

Looming over the buildings of Sunset Boulevard, the hotel shone in the darkness. The green glow of the neon sign hung on its front lit the dark horizon, as the building's windows glowed like tiny, sharp golden eyes.

Lightning crackled, writhing across the Hollywood skyline. With a sharp flash, the hotel's marquee hung on the front gate was illuminated:

The Hollywood Tower Hotel

Faint strains of jazz music wound through the still air, as a steady stream of black limousines deposited their human cargo at the hotel gates. Guests excitedly chattered as they wound their way through the labyrinthine maze of walkways and hedges that traced to the wooden double doors at front.

They were making their way to the party.

The Tip Top Club was situated at the uppermost floor of the Hotel—hence the name. Only hotel guests and the Hollywood elite made it past the elevator doors into the club proper; the exclusivity made the Hollywood gossip hounds and media drool with breathless imagination.

The wildly popular bandleader Anthony Fremont, with his equally famous orchestra, would be playing tonight, and the guests were eager to hurry to the parquet floors of the club.

The party was already underway; Fremont had struck up "Sing, Sing, Sing," and dozens of couples in tuxedos and chiffon dancing frocks were whirling to the lively jazz. The green, red, and blue frocks spiraling across the solid brown inlay of the floor rotated like a living kaleidoscope.

Hardly anything could be heard over the chattering of the dance couples and the upbeat tempo, but the wait staff attempted anyway, while circulating with trays of drinks. Both Prohibition and the Depression were over, and the economy was booming. Times were good, and the guests' boisterous enthusiasm more than mirrored this.

The hubbub was even louder at floor level, as late partygoers flocked to the elevator, with guests checking in and out, and even more excitedly chattering and bustling about. One small party glared angrily and sighed as they attempted to complete a mah-jongg game.

Amidst the noise, a short bellhop struggled with several valises as he rounded the corner of the reception desk. Dewey Todd was thirty-five, but looked like a seventeen-year-old playing dress-up; the round glasses perched on his round, big-eared head gave him the appearance of a child attempting to emulate his father. A slight build on a barely five-foot-four frame added to his woes.

The son of the hotel owner, he had been a bellhop for twelve years. _Twelve years!_ He mused angrily. _I should be managing this with Pop, not running the bags of rich snobs around. And speaking of snobs…_

He glared as he passed the tall, sophisticated man to his left. Gilbert London merely rolled his eyes expressively and continued tossing the small black box in his hand. Clad in a well-made, expensive tuxedo, his dark coloring and sharply chiseled features had earned him many an admiring glance from the hotel's female guests.

A member of the Actors' Guild, he'd had a distinguished career in both America and Britain. While theater had been his hallmark, it was time for something new. Perhaps the silver screen could earn him as much fame and idolatry as the stage had.

London dropped his box while pondering the night's course of events. Grumbling under his breath, Dewey stooped, picked it up, and tossed it over his shoulder, without missing a beat. London caught it in one hand, staring after the bellhop with clouded eyes.

The phone rang in the midst of the chaos. "Hollywood Tower Hotel, front desk."

Thunder slowly rumbled from the belly of the massive storm cloud heading towards the Tower.

The atmosphere in the club was alive and crackling with energy and enthusiasm. Uncaring of anything else, the band members were letting themselves fall under the spell of the intoxicating jazz. Trombones swayed, saxophones dipped, and Fremont played the clarinet one-handed, snapping in time.

One dapper guest picked his partner up to twirl her in the air, grinning at her delighted squealing as the ruby fabric of her dress rippled.

Those not dancing were socializing—loudly, so as to be heard over the music—at the dinner tables at the edge of the room. A dark-haired woman, seated at the table closest to the stage, grinned infectiously as she swayed her feathered mask in time to the beat.

Behind her, a man in a sharp tuxedo with graying hair tapped her on the shoulder and whispered something in her ear. She gave a delighted gasp, jumping up.

A crowd of cameramen and reporters, nearly all in matching gray jackets, huddled by the immense flower planter in the hotel lobby. Clutching their cameras and pads of paper, they fidgeted, waiting impatiently.

"I think she's here-"

"Well, I heard that she-"

"There!"

"There she is!"

It was a mad dash as the men eagerly rushed to the hotel doors, lining up on either side. Like dogs, the press could smell a good thing. Curious hotel guests tried to peek over the barrier of gray, trying to discern the source of the excitement and hubbub.

Dewey struggled through, laden down with even more valises. Behind him trailed a short, broad woman in earth-colored tweeds, forcing her way through the crowd and shoving back over-eager reporters with a smart black umbrella. She shot annoyed looks at the men through her round, horn-rimmed glasses. Emmeline Partridge was growing frustrated.

"That's the nanny, isn't it?"

"Yes, but where-"

"There she is!"

"Sally!"

"Ms. Shine! What would you-"

"Sally! A smile for the camera!"

Veritably bouncing over the threshold, Sally Shine gave her audience a huge, infectious grin. Blonde curls bounced, cornflower-colored eyes twinkled, and her dimples flashed. She gaily waved at the guests trying to get a look at her, and turned back to the media men. The child star blew kisses and waved with friendly delight, winning smiles from even the most jaded reporter.

Another girl, in a chocolate-colored dress that matched her braids, peeked around the planter. With envious eyes, she watched Sally pose for the cameras before the blonde scampered off to join her governess.

The clouds above the Hotel glowed electric green, thunder growling more insistently than ever.

At the front desk, London tapped his fingers against the wooden surface while stealing a glance at the clock. It was two after eight.

_More than a half-hour late! What could be keeping her?_

He felt a quick tap against his arm. A red-haired woman in a glittering white gown beamed at him, her upper face shrouded in a sequined mask.

London smiled as she removed the mask, beaming impishly. "Darling," he murmured.

"Sorry I'm late," she apologized, turquoise eyes holding him captivated through the chaos. He offered her his arm, which she readily accepted. After all, they were fashionably late for the party, and it wouldn't do to keep everyone waiting.

The doors of the main elevator slid open with a _ding_, guests stepping out. London led his companion inside, Dewey staggering behind under a load of suitcases and small valises. Ms. Partridge steamed along like a small ocean liner, one hand on Sally's shoulder, as the press eagerly followed.

As the adults settled inside, Sally skipped out for one last smile and wave. Dewey pressed the button for the floor, and arranged the luggage as London put his arm around his companion, smiling also at the cameras.

Just as the doors closed, Ms. Partridge pulled Sally back, and the crowd sighed in disappointment. It felt as though the enthusiasm was drained from them, with the young starlet's exit.

Green lightning flashed through the sky, rivaling the intensity of the neon sign.

Inside the elevator, the guests waited impatiently. Sally absentmindedly did a few tap steps as the two actors behind her gently teased each other.

Fifth floor.

The small girl bounced excitedly, beaming at her nanny. The solid woman raised an eyebrow. Sally slumped.

Seventh floor.

Dewey grinned at his clients, confidence flashing across his youthful features.

Tenth floor.

As the elevator neared the eleventh floor, it ground to a halt, jerking slightly. The lights flickered, causing Sally to gasp and edge closer to her nanny. Ms. Partridge put a hand on the child's shoulder, reassuring her with her solid presence.

Dewey's grin was sliding off his face as he fiddled with the elevator controls.

The bellhop grunted as he tugged at the wheel. It was solidly stuck.

Lightning flashed, closer, brighter…

Dewey's eyes darted across the elevator. _Now what do I do? I've…I've never…this…_

Emmeline Partridge gazed around the machinery suspiciously, while Sally clung to her, eyes wide. The small girl trembled slightly.

Electric green clouds seethed, flashing white-hot. With arrow-like speed, a jagged bolt of lightning struck the building's front, causing sparks to fly from the neon sign.

Sally whirled around, shrieking.

Heat flared and the light hit, surrounding the occupants with a flash of brilliance. Sally's hands flew to her face, as the others attempted to cover their eyes…

It grew hotter and brighter, and she couldn't see anything.

Hot and bright…and she was falling…

* * *

Hello! I'm Crescent Venus, and this is the second installation in my weird and wacky "The Spirit Detective Files" series. This fic series is a Sabrina the Teenage Witch crossover with various other properties (Disney's Haunted Mansion and Tower of Terror so far, and an eventual Yu Yu Hakusho one as well). The "Sabrina the Teenage Witch" portion of this is a blend of the different types of the franchise: the original comics, the "manga" reboot, and the TV show. (I'll admit that it was hard choosing just one, but there are so many fun elements to use!) Characters from the different versions will make appearances, but not all of them (sadly, we don't have enough time/room for that!). The Tower of Terror elements in the story are a blend of the ride and the Disney Channel movie.

If you haven't read the first fic in this series, "Tribute," I recommend you do it now, since you will most likely get confused. Some other reminders: this is set in the same USA and time period that Sabrina lives in. The year is 1999, and she is seventeen years old. The series is rated T/PG-13 for thematic elements and occasional language. If semi-graphic violence or occasional profane language disturbs you, please be warned.

As a general disclaimer, I do not own any of the intellectual properties used in this work (Sabrina, the Teenage Witch and Disney's Tower of Terror, the Twilight Zone, etc.). This work is intended solely for entertainment, and no profit is being made.

I believe that is all, so if you will be so kind, your elevator is waiting for you—a special one, still in working order. But be careful, for this elevator stops at the floor marked "terror," in…the Twilight Zone.


	2. The Girl Who Overcame

Shafts of morning sunlight gently pried their way through the ivy-shrouded stained-glass window. The sunbeams faintly illuminated the room, catching on the shimmering drapery of the bed in the center.

Sabrina Spellman turned over in her sleep, murmuring. Her golden hair fanned across the pillow, twinkling in the faint traces of light. Mumbling incoherently, she buried her face in the pillow before pulling the covers over her head.

A small black bundle of fur was curled over an ivory throw pillow at the foot of the bed. As Sabrina shifted and knocked the pillow to one side, the bundle of fur slid backwards, revealing it to be a black Burmese cat. Growling faintly, Salem gravitated to the nearest source of warmth: Sabrina's feet.

Groggily realizing that she could kick him off at any moment, the cat crawled onto the girl's belly, curling up with a faint lash of his tail. The girl's movements finally quieted. The only motion in the room came from shifting sunbeams, Sabrina's faint breathing, and a dozing Salem rising up and down with each breath.

It had been three days since the closure of the Gracey Manor case, and Sabrina had spent most of it sleeping. Drell had hurriedly explained to her aunts when she came back through the linen closet, exhausted and covered in scratches, bruises, and assorted cuts. The intense sleep was necessary to help regain her power, which had been nearly depleted during her mission. While Hilda chewed Drell out, Zelda had immediately sent Sabrina to bed and used some healing magic to hasten the recovery of the small wounds on her body.

Today was the last day she'd be allowed to stay at home; tomorrow, she'd have to go to school. Thankfully, Zelda had had the forethought at the mission's beginning to phone the school and explain that Sabrina was sick with a nasty stomach virus, and would not be back for a few days.

Downstairs, Zelda was zapping up breakfast for her niece, since she'd also need plenty of nutrition to speed the healing process. The tall woman paused for a second, tucking a wisp of blond hair behind one ear.

Zelda Spellman was a tall, elegant woman, possessing a lithe, delicate frame, and a small heart-shaped face. With long, almond-shaped ice-blue eyes, she bore an uncanny resemblance to her teenage niece. At this moment, she was scanning the meal she'd created, lips pursed in thought.

_Why, of all things, would Sabrina be picked for a mission from the Other Realm? It makes no sense whatsoever…After all, she's still a minor, and she doesn't even have full control over her powers yet! But Drell hand-picked her for a risky assignment involving ghosts and black magic…_

_Why?_

Zelda was no fool. And she would get those answers out of Drell one way or another. But that would have to wait for later—when Sabrina was both fully recovered and conscious. Then, perhaps with Hilda's help, the three would stand a better chance of getting the head of the Witches' Council to confess. As for now…

"Should I take the tray up to her **now**?" she wondered out loud. "Or have her eat here when she wakes up?" She eyed the food on the table. Of course, she could always levitate the tray and 'carry' it up the stairs, but that seemed like too much work…

"How about you ask **her**?" a rich tenor voice commented from the doorway. "Since I already woke her up." A small scrap of silky midnight fur oozed around the corner of the doorway. Slanted eyes the color of honey blinked up at the woman, with a pleading expression…most likely out of desire for a tasty breakfast.

Shaking her head, the slender woman turned back to the table and pointed up a place setting. "Salem!" she scolded as she worked. "You should have let her sleep some more to regain her energy, since-"

The staircase creaked as someone walked down. Zelda cut off abruptly as a slender white figure padded down the last few steps and carefully made its way through the living room, wobbling slightly.

Sabrina stopped at the kitchen door, clad in an ivory linen nightgown. She peered at the occupants with bleary eyes from under a curtain of thick, disheveled blond locks. She rubbed an eye with one fist. "Morning, Aunt Zelda."

"Good morning, dear." Zelda beamed fondly at her groggy niece. "Feeling better?"

"Sorta." She winced as she rubbed her back. "Aching muscles and a few stubborn cuts…that's about it. But let's talk about food. I'm starving."

"**You're** starving?" Salem muttered from his curled-up position on the floor.

Sabrina decided to ignore him as she shuffled into the kitchen, soft white slippers whispering across the linoleum. She stopped short of the table, eyes popping wide. "Please tell me all of that is **my** food."

Zelda puffed up with importance. "Yes, it is, and I'm proud to say I made every bit...magically, of course."

Sabrina, however, was thoroughly engrossed in staring at the food on the table before her. Zelda either was experiencing a severe Donna Reed mood swing, or she'd decided to make a breakfast buffet.

A large bowl of fruit was the centerpiece of the table, surrounded by a stack of toast, a small assortment of jams and jellies for said toast, a steaming bowl of oatmeal, fresh apple turnovers, a basket of muffins, and, flanked by plates of sausage and hash browns, a stack of… **pancakes**. Sabrina's favorite food in the entire **world**.

She somehow missed the glasses of milk, orange juice, and the vitamin C tablet at the corner, to make it part of a complete breakfast.

Sabrina decided that the best thing at this point would be to launch herself at the table, before her hunger progressed to the point where she was forced to eat Salem.

Zelda was precisely at the point of regaling the loving care that was spent deciding what kind of syrup to put on the table (she'd eventually decided on all of them—Sabrina wasn't choosy with her pancake toppings) when a white blur flung itself at the table, and started practically inhaling a stack of the golden pancakes.

The tall blonde sighed with frustration. "Sabrina, how many times have I told you? Use a **napkin** when you eat!"

A burgundy napkin appeared out of thin air, and plopped itself on Sabrina's lap. Zelda set her lips together in satisfaction and nodded while her niece continued to stuff her face like there was no tomorrow. "Much better."

Twenty frenzied minutes later, Sabrina slumped back in her chair, her nightgown twisting slightly around her figure. "Aaah. Why can't **every** Spirit Detective mission end like this?"

"I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question," Salem sniped as he frowned at his industrial-brand cat food.

"Jealous?" Sabrina smirked, popping a few last grapes into her mouth.

Salem grumbled and turned to face his 'Pretty Kitty Lite—Now, With Added Taste!' "My life sucks."

"Poor baby." She zapped the dishes away, and wandered off to find Aunt Zelda.

She found said aunt pacing back and forth in the living room, one hand on her stomach, and chewing on the nails of the other hand. Zelda was in deep thought, and doubtless about something troubling.

_It's probably about me,_ Sabrina realized with a start. She could remember Aunt Hilda screaming bloody murder at Drell for sending her on such a dangerous assignment. _I bet she's trying to figure out why I got picked…heck, I'm wondering that myself. What was Drell's rationale for this?_

Zelda walked into the end table and upset a lamp as she realized her niece was in the room. She blushed faintly as she straightened up.

"So, what have **you** been up to?" Sabrina raised an eyebrow. "Besides walking into furniture, I mean."

Zelda sighed, running a hand through her shag haircut. "Trying to think of an explanation for all this. Nothing seems to add up…"

"Tell me about it," Sabrina grumbled. _Although it __**is**_ _just like Drell to make snap decisions without any rationale whatsoever…_

"So what are you going to do about it?" Both women turned, startled, to face Salem. "You can stand here, pondering all day," the cat pointed out, "and arrive at no conclusions. After all, nine times out ten, thinking and talking are just ways to avoid **doing** anything."

Sabrina was about to retort when Zelda smacked one palm against the other. "He's absolutely right."

"I **am**?" Salem looked shocked. "I mean…of **course** I am!"

Sabrina rolled her eyes.

"I **was** going to wait for Hilda to get home from work, but there's no time like the present, as they say." Inspired, Zelda pointed up a cream-colored blazer over a black jumpsuit for herself. "We'll go see Drell, and **drag** the truth out of him if we have to." As an afterthought, she zapped an outfit for Sabrina: a purple tank top and jean skirt.

Beaming, the tall blonde marched off to the linen closet, which served the dual purpose of a tablecloth-and-bath towel holding place, but also a portal to the Other Realm. All Sabrina could do was pick up Salem and follow, praying that Zelda's new-found energy and zeal wouldn't get her in any more trouble than she had been.

* * *

It took a minimal amount of persuasion to get Cassandra, the Council secretary, to let them in. At the sight of Sabrina, the Gothic witch's eyes had nearly bugged out of her hand, and she'd hopped out of her seat to personally usher them to Drell's personal office.

Sabrina scowled at the memories that popped up at the sight of the door. _The last time I was here, I ended up being thrown into a portal to fight ghosts. I wonder what will happen now?_

Zelda hesitated, then lifted a small fist to rap on the door. Most of her initial enthusiasm had ebbed away at the actual prospect of facing the official Overlord himself. After all, he was notorious for changing his moods quicker than Sabrina could choose an outfit—and that's **quick**.

"Come in, come in," a sulky-sounding Drell muttered, his normally booming voice muffled by the door. "I don't have all day."

Sabrina chewed on her lip, as Zelda went to turn the knob.

_Maybe he forgot all about what happened, and will apologize. …and then again, this __**is**_ _Drell we're talking about here._

The older woman ushered her niece in first, before stepping in and shutting the door with an ominous _boom_. The Head of the Witches' Council was seated before his massive desk, reviewing a stack of papers. He was scratching his head, furthering disheveling his curly brown hair. At the sight of the two Spellman women (and the one furry black cat), Drell flushed a shade of deep sienna, and tugged at his lacy cravat. "Uh…ladies...fancy seeing you here…" he croaked.

Zelda's eyes flashed, and narrowed into slits of frightening blue. "Don't play the fool, Drell. I want some answers, and I refuse to leave until I have them." She folded her arms, standing with an imperious air, and staring determinedly at the warlock.

Drell reached for a folder on his desk, and pick up a sheet of paper labeled '_Answers to the Eternal Questions_.' "The train would come in at 4:15, the tree does make a sound, and the chicken was first."

Sabrina chuckled darkly. "Nice try." She lifted her chin, and tried to look imposing. "I want to know why you picked me to go to Gracey Manor instead of one of your employees." Unfortunately, she was much too soft-faced to pull off the glare, so she settled for squinting instead.

The warlock sighed, placing the folder down with deliberate carefulness. "You may want to sit down." He carefully wiped his glasses with a handkerchief, at first avoiding their eyes. "I hate confrontations," he mumbled childishly.

Zelda conjured up a pair of cushy upholstered chairs and sat down, arms crossed defiantly. Sabrina sighed and plopped onto the other chair, keeping Salem on her lap.

"Where to begin…" Drell rubbed his forehead.

"The conference?" Salem chirped helpfully.

Without removing his hand, Drell glared at the cat. "Yes. Thank you."

Salem preened.

Drell folded his hands on the desk and looked at Sabrina, then Zelda, before sighing quietly. "A few weeks ago, I attended an inter-dimensional meeting for heads of state. It was there that I ran into a young man who works as the head administrator for a realm called Reikai. He bragged to me about a special task force unit he employed that he called his 'Reikai Tantei'."

"Which means 'Spirit Detective'," Sabrina interjected, remembering her job title.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes. They oversee a variety of functions, one such being a sort of special police unit. They work on assignments to help ensure the safety of the realms they come from."

Zelda frowned. "But I don't see what this has to do with Sabrina."

Drell held up a hand. "Please, Ms. Spellman. Let me continue." He reached over to the side of his desk to pull out a different folder; this time, it was marked with a red tab. He set it before himself and continued speaking.

"It sounded like a brilliant idea, except for the fact that we have rather few problems like Reikai has, owing to the excellent interrelations between the various Other Realm species. What we **do** have is an unusually large number of what some crime investigators call 'cold cases.' These are cases—crimes, murders, mysteries, and so forth—that have never been solved, and are simply filed away for long periods of time. Unsolved mysteries." He turned to look at Sabrina.

"Most of these cold cases we have documented involve supernatural phenomena in the Mortal Realm. Sometimes, a case is so insignificant that it's not worth a full-blown investigation. But as with the Gracey Manor case, we can sometimes upgrade the status of such cases. The Gracey Manor affair became a hot case when we started getting those reports of unusually large amounts of unregulated, unknown dark energy. That's when an investigator must be sent in immediately."

"But…" Sabrina trailed off, unsure of exactly how to phrase her thoughts. "I know it was a good thing, what we did; if Salem and I hadn't gone in, then Thorne would have been able to open up the Netherworld and create his cult of deathless 'gods'." She shuddered at the memory. "But how…**why** didn't the Council investigate it when he attacked the Manor back in the 1800s?" Her sapphire eyes flashed, filled with pain. "Couldn't you have prevented all those people from dying?" _Because then Leota, Edward, and Elizabeth wouldn't have died so horribly…_

Drell shook his head. "There were a lot of things going on at the time—plenty of unscrupulous witches trying to take advantage of the American Civil War, for instance. Even if we had noticed a massacre of humans in Louisiana then, we didn't have enough agents at that time to contain the situation."

He eyes fell shut as she slumped in her seat. _So they really __**were**_ _doomed…_

The warlock folded his hands. His hazel eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the despondent girl. "To continue; we have a large number of cases that now may need investigation. Unfortunately, we're short of personnel at the time—**willing** personnel—to do this. Wimps," he muttered. "So, that left one option to get the investigators we need."

"Physical force?" Salem dryly suggested.

Drell scowled at his insinuation. "Community service."

Sabrina nearly exploded, Salem falling with a yowl from her lap. "**WHAT?** How can you send someone into a death-trap of a case like that as **COMMUNITY SERVICE**? It's **unethical**! It's **insane**! It's…wait a minute. Why was I doing community service?"

The curly-haired warlock beamed broadly. "**Now** you're asking the important stuff."

Zelda's eyes went wide for a split second, before they became dangerous slits of silvery blue. "Drell…" she began warningly. "If you're doing what I think you're doing…"

"Then it's perfectly ethical."

"What is he doing?" Sabrina gripped her aunt's arm, panicking. "**What**? Is it ethical? Why do I have to do community service?"

The grin on Drell's face could have been a carbon copy of the sadistic smile Mr. Kraft wore while writing detention slips. "You've been enlisted in the Spirit Detective squad, Miss Spellman, due to your criminal record."

If someone would have politely informed her that she'd been drafted to fulfill community service because Mother Theresa had spoken through the President's dog in ancient Hebrew specifically requesting it (along with retrieving the Pope's dry-cleaning, of course), Sabrina would have been no less flabbergasted.

_My…__**what**__? What…what is he talking about? I don't have a criminal record! I've never done anything bad in my entire life…haven't I?_

Drell opened the red-tagged folder on his desk. "Since you were born, Miss Spellman, the Council has kept a record of you—standard governmental procedure, you understand. But since you began actively using magic, we've monitored your record closely, and especially as you began to break several rules."

"But…" Sabrina protested feebly. The words dropped off and died away as she began to remember all the mistakes and messes she'd gotten into, with the subsequent trips to Council to 'explain.' _So __**that's**_ _what he means. I didn't know they were keeping tabs on me! This is __**not**_ _good._

"Now, we didn't actively prosecute, seeing as there was little to no malicious intent behind your actions; the fact that you were still a minor, and not fully trained, adding to that, of course. However, if you look at your record in the past two years, there has been a substantial amount of infractions, and they add up…"

_The discount on the dress. Making the council have to rescue her from Circe. Misusing the Magic Cue Ball. Accidentally stealing that famous martial artist's skills. _

All her mistakes, all her failures swirled before her eyes. Most of them had been purely accidents, but still…

_The spells used to retaliate against Libby. The innumerable spells to make Harvey forget what he'd seen of her forbidden world._

One of her biggest problems was her tendency to ignore the directions and small print on **anything**. Consequently, she ended up casting spells that never worked the right way, or blew up—sometimes literally—in her face. Sabrina had also acquired a slight disregard for rules. They just didn't always seem to apply to **her**…

Zelda paled, looking at the list Drell had passed to her. Only a few major cases leaped out at her; most were minor infractions. She swallowed nervously, fingers shaking slightly around the paper. But it was a lengthy list, even for a teenager.

Drell, unfortunately, wasn't finished **quite** yet. "We've also looked at Sabrina's record in school," he added, pulling out her high school transcripts. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at the teen. "Apparently, you've set the record for 'Most Detentions Held in a Single Year'."

"Give me a break!" Sabrina bristled, eyes snapping. "Mr. Kraft doesn't like me, and looks for any excuse to rag on me, and…I…kinda sleep in too late…" the last mumbled, so inaudible that Drell could barely hear it. _Now I really __**am**_ _gonna be in trouble…_

"Exactly what I'm talking about." he dropped the transcripts onto the desk with a solid _thud_. He folded his hands together, causing Sabrina to mentally groan. She'd seen him do that **too** many times before a patronizing lecture. "Now, let me explain why I've picked you to become a Spirit Detective."

"Because she's a juvenile delinquent?" Salem suggested, who had been quiet the entire time.

Drell, Sabrina, and Zelda all glared at the cat, who shrank away under the safety of a chair. "Just kidding…"

"Well, not so much a 'juvenile delinquent' as a 'troubled youth'," Drell explained.

"I'm **not** relieved," Sabrina muttered.

Zelda waved at Sabrina to hush, turning to the warlock. "So what you're hinting at is that, by serving community service in this program, Sabrina can erase the marks on her record?"

"Yes. Already, you can see at least five or six marks were dropped with the completion of the Gracey Case. She'll need to stay longer in this department to completely expunge **all** the marks from her record, but it isn't impossible."

"And **how** am I supposed to do all this with school?" Sabrina snapped. "If you haven't forgotten, I'm a senior now. **And** I have to get into college."

"That'll have to wait," Drell shook his head, gesturing at the folder. "From the length of your list, it'll take at least a year to complete this—unless you'd like to be a Spirit Detective while in college, that is."

Sabrina glared at him. _Sure, let's forget about __**my**_ _future here…_

Zelda touched her niece's arm. Sympathy, not anger or disappointment, touched the lines of her face. "We'll discuss this at home," she said quietly.

The teenage witch scowled and slouched back in her chair. _This is incredibly unfair. But then again, what choice do I have?_

"So until further notice, you will be working off your community service debt as the Spirit Detective of the Other Realm." The beefy warlock made a few adjustments to Sabrina's file, preparing to give it a stamp of approval.

"With a few conditions."

Drell looked up, surprised. His detective was no longer pouting or glaring, but sitting calmly, arms crossed and leveling a rational look at him. Perhaps she was shrewder than he had given her credit for… "State your terms." And if they were too ridiculous, he could always find some loophole to negate it.

"I want you to give me sufficient notice before each case, so I can have time to prepare beforehand. I **do** live in the Mortal Realm, after all, and people tend to ask questions when you run off somewhere at the drop of a hat."

Drell pursed his lips. "But only for a period deemed relevant. For something vitally important, you may have no prior notification."

The teen nodded. "I'm going to need some sort of training. I was **damn** lucky that I could defend myself last case, but I'm going to bet this won't hold true in the future."

"I'll look into it," Drell mumbled, writing on a sticky note. "Anything else you require?" He sighed, a note of sarcasm drifting in his voice.

"Just one more thing." The blond girl pushed herself out of the chair and ambled to the door, her aunt and cat following a beat later. She paused and turned around. "I want a partner. I'm not going on the next mission alone."

"You had Mr. Saberhägen, here," Drell languidly gestured at the cat.

"I mean a partner who can do magic, not one who rides around in my backpack and fights with the guide."

Salem pouted. "I did…stuff." _Can't remember most of it, but that's beside the point._

Zelda shook her head, amused, as she picked him up. "I'm sure you did. Most of it probably involved complaining and sitting."

Drell massaged his forehead as Sabrina tried her best to imitate the imposing stare Libby often wore. It still wasn't working. "I'll look into it." He peered at her over his horn-rimmed glasses. "Any preferences, to make my life easier?" he added, sarcastically.

"I can bet," Salem purred slightly, smirking. "Between the ages of 16 and 21, male, and hot?"

Sabrina clenched her fist as she fought to keep down a blush. "Salem, shut **up**." _When we get home, you are sooooo __**dead**__._

The warlock smirked as he made a few pencil notes on Sabrina's file. "I'll keep that in mind."

* * *

I bet you will, Drell…

::snicker::

You may or may not know that the chapter title is an allusion to the anime _Inuyasha_. It's also a slight hint as to the content of the next chapter. (I do like to make allusions to other shows occasionally; I hope it's not disruptive to the story flow.)

Yes, Sabrina **does** get into quite a bit of trouble at school, since she seems to be chronically late. And having the vice-principal as your enemy doesn't make things easier.

As a side note (forgot to mention it before), inner dialogue is noted in Italics, as are non-English words (you'll see later). So, any time you see italicized words, a character is thinking to themselves. Bold is for emphasis. Lines are to denote scene changes or the end of the chapter (I always put a line between the end of the chapter and the Author Note).

I used to do Reader Review Responses at the end of each chapter, but I've been informed that doesn't allow those anymore. Suffice to say, I do read each review, and I take all feedback seriously. If any reader has a question about the story, I will try to address it in an Author Note (I have then at the end of each chapter). Suggestions are always considered, but I may not be able to use them; please do not take it personally if I turn down a suggestion.

Next chapter: Sabrina and Aunt Zelda head home for a serious chat, as Drell decides to go ahead and recruit Sabrina's partner…


	3. The Boy Who Was Just Overcome

_Meanwhile, halfway around the world…_

**Tokyo, Japan**

"_Tadaima!_" The door to the small house swung open as a tall, lean figure stumbled through, bent under the weight of a backpack straining its seams. The boy kicked the door shut, shucked off his black sneakers, and set his backpack down. It immediately fell over, its contents spilling across the floor.

He sighed as he reviewed the bag's contents, lip curling with distaste. _It's got to be illegal to assign this much homework on __**one**_ _night._

Shrugging, he kicked the bag aside, and ambled off towards his bedroom. Perhaps he'd start on his homework later. Right now, he definitely needed a break. Maybe for two or three hours…

He immediately fell onto the low bed, face buried in the pillow. _Yes, a nap would be very good about now…_

"Shinji? Are you home?"

The boy briefly raised his head to answer. "Who else would it be?" He let his face fall back into the pillow again. _Must sleeeeep… _Instead, it felt like he was being smothered, so he flopped over onto his back and stared at his ceiling for a while.

Shinji pushed a few strands of loose, electric-blue hair out of his eyes, willing his back to stop aching, and his limbs to relax. School had been absolutely killer today. Some drunken guy had decided to regale the entire bus with what sounded like a garbled version of David Bowie's "Changes," for the **entire** hour. Then, Ono-_sensei_ had decided to unofficially make today "Let's Torture Shinji Day" by assigning him to read the part of friggin' **Juliet** in World Literature class.

He decided to block out the torture of soccer practice for now.

All he wanted to do was sleep…forget about homework and sleep…no chores or anything…

A quick rap sounded from the other side of the door. Shinji groaned at the disturbance. The door to his bedroom swung in, and admitted his brother. Shinji threw an arm over his eyes and rolled over, facing away from the door "Oi, Ken, just go away and lemme sleep."

Kenichi raised an eyebrow from beneath his thick glasses. "You should really be starting on your homework, Shinji," he warned. "You don't have time to take a nap right now."

Shinji waved it off. "Whatever." He snuggled closer to his pillow. "What's up?"

Kenichi ran a hand through his short, wavy hair; a contrast to Shinji's long and straight locks. "I'm leaving for work soon. Dinner's on the stove, if you're hungry."

"Gotcha. Maybe after my nap, though."

Kenichi shook his head at his younger brother's lax attitude. "Just straighten up and feed Moriko, okay? She's **your** responsibility, might I add."

"I know, I know," Shinji groaned, trying to hide under the pillow. "Just please, let me **sleep**!"

The elder brother rolled his eyes, as if to say, _'I can't believe I'm related to someone like you.'_

"I'll be leaving now. You know my cell number." With that, he slipped out the doorway, neglecting to close it.

Shinji sighed blissfully. _Ken's gone. At last, I can sleep! _He pulled the blanket over himself, yawning and snuggling in. The blanket somehow slipped away. Grumbling, he reached over to pull it back up. He turned over, sighing softly.

The blanket slipped away again, and he shivered slightly. Shinji propped himself up on one elbow, groping blindly for the cover. As soon as he found it, he rolled back over, tugging it with him.

The bedroom was silent for a golden minute as Shinji felt himself drifting off to the distant shores of a tropical island, where all that awaited him were peace, birdsongs, and that hot girl from junior class B in a lime-green bikini…

Cold air danced up his spine as he realized the blanket had once again slipped off. Growling, Shinji propped himself up again, pushing wayward strands of his blue hair out of the way, dark chocolate-colored eyes even darker with anger.

"What the hell…" he growled as he spotted the blanket on the floor. Swiftly tugging it up, he uncovered a small furry brown figure. The creature turned its furry face up to the boy, bright eyes pleading.

"Moriko, you little scamp!" Shinji laughed, holding out a hand. "Alright, you can come onto my bed."

The tanuki chattered happily as she climbed onto the bed, and snuggled up at her master's belly. Shinji laughed as he scratched her behind the ears.

As the tanuki examined his socks, Shinji fell backwards, allowing his body to relax once again. He rarely got any personal time these days, what with school, soccer practice, cram school, chores, and practicing his magic. _It's amazing that I haven't developed an ulcer already._

Shinji sighed, scratched his side, and prepared to be seriously lazy. Moriko yipped and curled up at his side, nuzzling him slightly. "Poor Moriko," he murmured, lazily giving her a good, long scratching, "you must be so lonely, stuck in the house with Ken all day."

The raccoon dog sneezed lightly. Shinji looked at her oddly, but said nothing.

His eyes slid shut, fairly weighted down with stress. The gentle scratches became rhythmic, as his breathing slowed. _Maybe I can get a good nap in now…_

It was a few moments later that Moriko began barking, yapping loudly and insistently. "Moriko, shut **uuuuuppp**," Shinji groaned, rubbing his forehead. Grunting, he pried his eyes open to see a floating envelope hovering above his bed.

"The Council?" Shinji mumbled, recognizing the familiar envelope. "What did I do **now**?"

No answer came, as Moriko continued barking at the envelope, as though it were a threat to the tanuki and her master. Shinji sat up, muscles aching in protest, and snatched it. He hunched over as one slender finger slit open the flap, and then pulled the letter out.

His eyes darted from side to side as he scanned the contents of the letter. "A summons?" the blue-haired warlock pondered out loud, brow creasing in confusion. _I haven't done anything particularly troublesome lately, so why are they calling me in?_

Shinji sighed, and, using his fists, pushed himself off the bed. "At least Ken isn't at home. He'd have another nervous breakdown." He shuffled off in search of his shoes, shoving the letter into the pocket of his _gakuran_. "Hopefully, this won't take too long."

Standing at the entryway of the house, he paused sleepily for a minute. _Wait…I'll never get my nap now!_

"NOOOOOOO!"

* * *

Cassandra, official secretary to the Overlord of the Realms (Drell), sighed, as she went about her least favorite duty: stamping request forms. She'd neatly filed them into piles, and all that was left was to mark each pile with the appropriate stamp. "A **toddler** could do this," she murmured distastefully.

"_Konbanwa_, Cassandra-_san_," a soft baritone greeted her.

The blond secretary looked up, intrigued by something that was not paperwork. Standing before her was an all-too familiar boy, clad in a black button-up jacket and pants with electric blue hair falling messily around his face and shoulders. He grinned at her as one would an old friend, but still gave her a respectful bow.

"In trouble **again**, Shinji?" Cassandra lightly teased, grateful for the opportunity to divert her from terminal boredom.

"Not quite…I think…" Shinji dug around in his pants pocket for the summons, fishing it out. He brandished the horribly crumpled piece of parchment before Cassandra. "I received this a little while ago."

The blonde eyed the stamp at the bottom, signifying it to be Drell's, and therefore qualifying the boy for immediate entry into his office. "Head right in. He shouldn't be too terribly busy, I would imagine."

"_Arigatou_." Shinji flashed a dazzling smile, and headed off down the corridor. He didn't need to be shown to the office; he'd been there enough times already to know its location.

Cassandra chuckled and shook her head as she watched him head away, and turned back to her stamping. "I wonder what he's gotten into this time?" she mused.

Having arrived at Drell's office door, Shinji sighed and rubbed his forehead. _With a bit of luck, this will go well. I hope… _

"Come in," Drell barked. "No sense skulking around."

Shinji cautiously opened the door, and hesitantly peeked his head inside. Drell looked up from a manila folder, and broadly grinned. "Just the boy I wanted to see," he boomed. "Come in."

Shinji grinned weakly as he walked in. _Why's he in such a good mood? He only looks this way when he's dealing out a punishment…uh-oh…_

He stood nervously before the desk, warily watching the older warlock. "Have a seat," Drell nodded towards an armchair. Drell folded his hands as Shinji snuggled into the plush interior.

Drell smiled again, much like a shark eying a tiny clown fish. He pulled a rather thick manila folder from a stack, and flipped it open to the first page. He pushed his glasses a bit up his nose as he read off the information.

"Yamagi Shinji…age 17. Birth date: December 21. Nationality: Japanese…Family: brother, Kenichi, age 23…"

Shinji fidgeted in his seat. _Why is he reading all this off? He should know this by heart, since I've been here at least once a month the past couple years!_

"Attends Shibakouen High School… Senior class C…"

_This has to be some sort of psychological method used to make me confess to something I didn't do. He's just using it to make me squirm…_

"…with a lengthy list of minor infractions and convictions over the past five or so years."

"Yes, sir, I know," Shinji began, hoping to distract the heavy-set warlock, " but what…"

"Let's see… in the past year alone…illegal trespassing into the Warlock-Wastelands…"

"I got lost," the teenage boy muttered defensively, face flushing slightly.

"…use of magically enhanced pyrotechnics in a public park…"

"It was a science project! I didn't have a lawn to test it out on at home!"

"…cheating on standardized tests with enchanted ink…"

"Do you understand how many tests we have to take? It's insane! I don't have time to study for them all!"

Drell sighed abruptly and put Shinji's case file down. He rubbed his forehead. "Shinji, let me explain something to you."

The boy raised an eyebrow. "By all means, go ahead."

"Your record in the Other Realm is longer than Merlin's beard…an almost impossible feat for a boy of your age, but an unfortunate fact nonetheless."

"I set a record? Cool," he grinned. "First time I ever did anything like **that**."

"What do you see yourself doing ten years from now?"

"Is this one of those hypothetical questions that guidance counselors ask to determine what your ideal career should be? 'Cause I never could come up with an answer."

"Let me be blunt." Drell looked Shinji directly in the eyes—a situation that left the teen slightly squirming. "With the way your record's going, you don't have much of a future. No decent college will accept you with this transcript, Shinji. You don't stand much of a chance at getting a good job."

Shinji bit his lip. His chocolate-colored eyes briefly studied the carpet.

"I'm worried about you. With a record like this, you may find yourself sinking into trouble…and I want to try and prevent that from happening."

_I've always taken for granted that I could stay at home with Ken and get some average job…I've never been the traditionalist like Ken. I don't care about the honor and social position crap, about getting into the best school or having the ideal white-collar job. That's __**Ken's**_ _dream._

_I just want to be happy. But…if this transcript of mine could prevent me from getting a halfway decent job, and providing for myself…_

_I can't be a burden to Ken forever. Someday, he's going to want to get married and have kids or something, and he can't do that with me around. _

_Maybe I really **do** need to grow up a little…_

He exhaled slightly, shaking back the strands of blue hair falling in his eyes. "Okay. What do I have to do to get out of this mess?" _Famous last words, eh?_

Drell's eyes lit up, twinkling dangerously behind his bifocals. "There **is** a way to expunge the marks from your record…"

* * *

**Westbridge, Massachusetts, United States of America**

The Spellman house sat quietly as its occupants were gone, waiting patiently for life to return to the empty shell. Crickets chirped, the washing machine hummed as it ran through the spin cycle, and the wind sighed softly through the maple tree in the yard. This was peace and tranquility at its finest, on a lazy evening, the sky softly darkening.

Or it was until the occupants came home.

A flash of lightning and a tooth-rattling clap of thunder announced the arrival of the two witches (and cat) from the Other Realm. Zelda opened the linen closet door, looking tired, depressed, and in need of serious caffeine. Rubbing her forehead, she descended the stairs, heading for an armchair and some coffee.

Sabrina was in a much fouler mood than her aunt, and nearly slammed the door on Salem. Yowling in protest, the cat slunk into the bathroom to hide, muttering under his breath all the whole time.

The teenage witch stomped down the staircase, uncaring of the noise she made. At this point, she felt so angry that she was ready to pick up random pieces of furniture and fling them at the nearest representative of the Witches' Council.

Once again, she'd been rendered powerless. She hated it.

She'd thought—or hoped, rather—that the Gracey affair had been just a temporary fit of insanity on Drell's part. Perhaps a bit of uncouth nastiness for the plentiful headaches she'd caused over the years. But never, never, had she thought that this may be permanent…

That she would not be in control of her own life ever again.

_Is this the price I must pay for the mistakes I've made?_

It was unfair, and she couldn't do anything. It was a punishment that she couldn't fight.

"Honey?"

Zelda stood in the doorway, bearing two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Her soft face radiated concern as she watched her niece.

Sabrina wordlessly took a mug and sat down on the sofa. Zelda's lips quirked in a mirthless smile, as she gracefully moved to sit next to the girl. For a long moment, neither woman spoke. Zelda swirled the chocolate in her cup. "We need to talk."

Clichéd. Obvious. "There's nothing to talk about. The Council's got my future in their self-righteous, pompous, grubby little hands, and I have no choice." She took a sip of hot chocolate, to stop the aching in the back of her throat.

_I won't cry. I won't give the Council the satisfaction of having me break down._

Zelda cautiously reached out a hand to stroke a lock of the younger girl's hair. "It can all be worked around," Zelda murmured softly.

"**How**?" Sabrina sharply turned around in her seat, blond hair flying and the liquid in her mug very nearly sloshing onto the carpet. "They own part of my life! How will I ever be able to go back to my friends…to school…to get a job, a home, a family, a **life**?" The teenage witch turned back to moodily contemplate her chocolate.

"We can give any number of 'explanations' to the school, to cover your absences. Vacations, death in the family, illnesses, doctor's appointments…" Zelda began smoothly. "As for college, your grades and extracurriculars should be enough to get you in anywhere you like."

"But Drell said I'd still be working off my debt come this time next year," Sabrina pointed out, narrowing her eyes at her aunt's sudden compliance with the situation. "I don't see how I can run around solving mysteries or whatever crap he wants me to do while being a student."

"We can defer you to the spring semester," her aunt calmly offered. "Or you can take a year off. It isn't unheard of."

"But I want to go **next year**!" Sabrina howled. All rationality and maturity had been thrown by the wayside at this point. "They **can't** screw up my life! They just **can't**!" She scowled at her aunt. "And why are you taking this so **CALMLY**?" She nearly shrieked.

Zelda sighed, in the same manner used for Aunt Hilda's taste in movies, and complaints against Salem's crank calling. She rubbed her head, before closing her eyes wearily.

"We don't have any options," Zelda stated plainly. Her pale blue eyes seemed to droop as she studied the younger girl. "Technically, they have the right. You have a criminal record—although a minor one—and have yet to serve any punishment. Be grateful they didn't turn you into a cat," she added.

Sabrina slumped in her seat, miserably. "I don't have a choice, then."

"Quite plainly, no."

The teenage witch sniffled, rubbing her eyes. _Shoot…and I didn't want to cry. But I feel so helpless again…_

Zelda put a comforting arm around her niece. "We'll make it work, somehow. I'll ask Hilda when she comes home." The younger girl nodded, miserably. "Go upstairs and get ready for bed, dear. You have school tomorrow."

"I'm not in the mood," Sabrina grumbled, but obediently zapped her chocolate away and started for the stairs.

Once her niece was safely upstairs, Zelda fell back against the sofa. She turned her chocolate into an espresso, and massaged her forehead, willing the dull ache to ease. _Ted…I feel like I've failed you, somehow. I was supposed to make sure that she turned out okay…and now this has happened._

_What will I do?_

* * *

Yes, Shinji Yamagi is an actual character from the Sabrina, the Teenage Witch comic books/manga. He's a teenage Japanese warlock who attends the same magical night school as Sabrina, and ends up enrolling in her human high school, as well. Shinji also has a **huge** crush on her, and becomes locked in a love triangle with Harvey, as the two vie for Sabrina's affections. (Hmmm, I wonder what he'll be doing in this fic, wink wink!) His brother Ken is also a character from the comics/manga, but he isn't going to play as big a role as Shinji.

Shinji's familiar, Moriko, is not from the manga, however; she is my own creation. Tanuki are a type of feral canine that bear a strong resemblance to raccoons. They are native to Japan and other parts of Asia, and have lately been introduced into Europe. Japanese folklore depicts them as playful shapeshifters who enjoy a good joke. Moriko's name is Japanese, and is quite simple: "Mori" is "forest," and "ko" is "child" (It also is an ending for Japanese girls' names). Her name, therefore, is translated as "forest child," or "child of the woods."

And one more thing! The manga reboot gave most of the characters astrological signs. (But no specific birthdays, boo) Shinji is a Sagittarius; I picked the Winter Solstice as his birthday as a fun contrast. Sabrina is a Gemini, by the way. Check out the astrological compatibility between the two; it's a fun little detail that Tania del Rio added to point out their connection to each other.

In each Author's Note, I'll try to briefly explain any non-English terms used. Since Shinji and his brother are Japanese, there are going to be a few Japanese terms. I'll try to briefly explain them with some context if you're not familiar with them.

"_Tadaima_" means "I'm home." When you come home, you take your shoes off and set them on a mat by the side of the door. It is impolite to wear shoes inside a home, since the Japanese view the soles of shoes as being especially dirty. You would wear socks or slippers inside the house.

"_Sensei_" is the term used for "teacher," and not just for the "wise master" in martial arts. If, for example, your teacher were named Mr. Jones, you would call him Jones-_sensei_. It could also be used for someone like a doctor or professor.

"_San_" is a term of respect, and is roughly the equivalent of "Mr.", "Mrs.", and "Ms." in English. So, if you met a man named Mr. Brown, he would be Brown-_san_. When Shinji speaks to Cassandra, he is calling her roughly the equivalent of "Ms. Cassandra."

A "_gakuran_" is a boys' school uniform; it typically consists of a dark-blue or black pair of slacks and button-up jacket, although this can vary from school to school. (A _fuku_ is that cute little sailor suit you see on just about every Japanese schoolgirl.)

"_Konbanwa_" means "Good evening." "_Arigatou_" is a basic way to say "thank you."

Just as a fun side note, the name of Shinji's school means "grass park," and is borrowed from the anime Sailor Moon. It's the Japanese name of the school Sailor Venus attends.

Yes, it's angsty!Sabrina. A unique change of pace, but she'll cheer up soon. (Oh, and Ted is the name of Sabrina's dad.) Sorry that this Author Note is so long, but there were a bunch of terms to explain. Future ones should hopefully be shorter.

Next Chapter: School days are back again, as Sabrina is reluctantly packed off to high school. Unfortunately, she's in for a nasty surprise…


	4. What You Need

"Have a wonderful day!" Hilda called, waving merrily at the retreating figure of her teenage niece. That morning had been long and painful; the two sisters had to pry Sabrina from her bed, spray her with a garden hose, and force-feed her in order to get the reluctant teen ready for school.

The younger sister's smile slid off her face as she turned towards the elder. "She's still really hung up about this Detective job, isn't she?"

"Of course." Zelda stirred her morning coffee, blowing on it faintly. "How would you feel if you were informed that your immediate future was being controlled by the government?"

"Rebellious? Angsty? Ready to play some nasty practical jokes?" Hilda stretched her arms in a gesture reminiscent of a stand-up comedian. The younger of the two Spellman sisters was of medium height, with a stocky, curvy frame. Her round, friendly face was currently etched with a frown, her chipmunk cheeks puffed in a pout, and the twinkling baby-blue eyes clouded with distress.

Zelda firmly set the mug on the table. "It's not the right way to go, Hilda, and you know that," she said softly.

"But we can't just **give in**! It's Drell: let me reason with him! I'll-"

"Get nowhere fast, and end up causing more trouble than you intended." Zelda shot her younger sister a steadying look. "I know Drell as well as you do, and that man's too pigheaded and stubborn to give in to reason after he's made up his mind."

"But Zelly…" Hilda whined.

"We have **no choice**, Hilda. The only thing we can do is to bide our time."

"Whose time are we talking about?" Hilda grumbled, before moving into the living room for her morning soaps. "Ours, or Sabrina's?"

* * *

_Ahh. Good old Westbridge High. I never thought I'd be here again. The miniscule lockers…the horrible food… the sadistic teachers…_

"WHOO! It's great to be back!" Sabrina cheered in the middle of the hallway.

"Well, Miss Spellman, it's simply wonderful to see your enthusiasm for school piqued by your illness." The sarcastic tone grated on Sabrina's ears, informing her that the person standing about five feet away was one of the last people she'd ever want to talk to at quarter to eight on a Tuesday morning.

_Then again, maybe chasing after ghosts isn't so bad, after all._

Sabrina's eyebrow twitched. "Good morning, Mr. Kraft."

Willard Kraft was a rather unhappy individual. Perhaps it was the result of a lonely childhood. Maybe his thwarted youthful dreams were to blame. Or, maybe he was a sadistic person who just really liked making people miserable.

Sabrina had always leaned towards the latter.

A mirthless smile stretched across the vice-principal's dour face; his eyes glinted behind the bifocals he constantly pushed up his skinny nose. "Unfortunately, it seems that your interest has not been sufficiently piqued to encourage you to attend school **on time**." With this, he whipped out his ever-present detention pad and began quickly scrawling.

The teenage witch opened her mouth to protest, but shut it quickly. If she hadn't learned Mr. Kraft's behavior by now, she never would. The man simply thrived on giving detentions to those who set just one toe out of line.

And there **was** no excuse; she'd purposely dawdled this morning getting ready, and then stopped at 7-11 for a **real** breakfast. Searching her mind for a plausible excuse, Sabrina hit upon the trustiest of all of them, and one that hadn't been used for a bit (couldn't overuse it, for sake of suspicion).

"I'm sorry I'm late, but Aunt Zelda wasn't sure if I was well enough to come to school today. She spent a half-hour on the phone with our family doctor this morning, just to make sure." She threw in a few coughs, for good measure.

Mr. Kraft's face softened for an instant; the man turned into a pile of gooey mush around Aunt Zelda, in an almost ridiculous fashion. Sabrina crossed her fingers, hoping he was in a sentimental mood this morning. "How such a lovely lady can have such a late niece is beyond me," he mumbled. A second later, the love-struck glaze left his eyes, and he cleared his throat, looking sheepish. "But that still doesn't excuse the fact. The school nurse or the office could have been notified."

With an exaggerated ripping motion, he tore off the slip and handed it to her. "I believe you know where the detention hall is."

Sabrina rolled her eyes, and sauntered off to class. _It's not the first time I've been given detention, so no biggie…_

"Now hurry it up, or I'll give you a two-hour Saturday detention, too!"

The blonde bolted for her classroom.

* * *

As she scribbled down notes about quadratic equations, Sabrina kept an eye on the clock above the classroom door. Class had ten minutes left before second period, and she felt as if she couldn't take any more waiting.

None of her friends were in first period algebra with her; none of her enemies, either. At this point, Sabrina was dying for even **negative** social stimulation.

_Besides, after being chased by creepy monsters and ghosts, nearly being tossed into Hell, and fighting a psychopathic wizard, I'm more than ready to take on Libby. She'll be a piece of cake to deal with, after those spiders._

Sabrina allowed herself a grin as she pictured Libby's scowling face on a Poison Spider's body. I'd say that it definitely suits her.

A second image popped up next to the first; Harvey, cringing as the Libby-Spider stalked towards him, closer and closer, intent on having the young man for lunch. At the last minute, Sabrina heroically swung in on a chandelier, and squished the Libby-Spider with one majestic stomp of her black boots. Harvey pledged his undying love and admiration, with hearts in his eyes, as Sabrina carried him off into the sunset…

The bell suddenly rang, interrupting Mrs. Quick's cheerful monologue about the virtues of the quadratic formula, and Sabrina's bizarre daydream. The teacher blinked, confused, at the cheer that had gone up at the signal for the end of class, but managed to call out a homework assignment as the students jostled each other in a hurry to get out the door.

Sabrina hummed as she gathered her books and set out for her next class. Next period was going to be good.

Mr. Pool taught AP Biology during second period, which was quite possibly Sabrina's favorite class. Pool was one of her favorite teachers (his dry sarcasm was a welcome diversion from her relatively boring schedule), biology one of her favorite subjects, and both her sort-of-boyfriend and her best friend were in the class with her.

Sabrina beamed, thinking of bragging about her weekend to Harvey and Val. _I explored a Gothic Louisiana mansion, met some really cool ghosts, and totally kicked this psycho warlock's butt…_

She stopped short before the classroom door. _Geez, I'm an idiot. I can't talk to them about it; same as my magic. It's not part of what they're supposed to believe… _Besides, if Drell caught wind of her telling them, and then wiping their memories, she'd probably be a Spirit Detective until she was as old as Aunt Zelda…

Sabrina heaved a sigh as she clutched her books again and pushed open the door. _I just wish I could talk to __**someone**__ about it…I hate having to keep things from people. For once, I'd love somebody I could talk to about __**anything**__ without getting in trouble…_

Sabrina froze as she stepped over the threshold of the classroom. Harvey and Val were sitting at the lab table the three usually occupied, but…

_Is it just me, or are they holding hands?_

Sabrina shook her head, as if to clear their vision, and blinked. They weren't. Perhaps Val's hand had been next to Harvey's, and from where Sabrina had been standing, it just **looked** like their hands were touching.

That hand—er, had—to be it. Just a momentary trick of her imagination. Right?

_Right… _A tiny voice in her head snickered as Sabrina cheerfully made her way to her friends.

Val looked up from reviewing her notes, to see the blonde coming her way. "Sabrina! You're better! I was worried that your illness was worse than your aunt said…" Valerie Burkehead was a sweet-faced brunette with matching deep brown eyes. Her crimson lips were curved into a gentle smile as she patted the stool next to her, gesturing for her friend to sit down.

"Yeah," Harvey agreed. "Your Aunt Zelda wouldn't even let us in to see you, she said you got the stomach flu so bad." His black locks were more tousled than normal, and his blue eyes were as deep and sparkling as she remembered. Harvey looked genuinely concerned for her, and that made Sabrina's knees wobble for a second.

Harvey Kinkle was the second friend she'd made at Westbridge High, the first boy she'd ogled at the same place, the first she'd ever kissed, and definitely the cutest mortal boy she'd ever met. The two of them also enjoyed the most confusing relationship she'd ever seen, outside of those teen dramas she watched on the WB.

They were friends for the longest time, before they went out on Valentine's day sophomore year. And then they dated for a while, before her aunts and his parents thought they should slow it down and see other people. Then the whole Dashiell fiasco happened, and they were together for a while. And then Harvey went out with Libby's friend Morgan for a bit…

At the moment, they were in an awkward stage, not quite "on again," but not really "off again," either. How many dates did they usually go out on before they were "together," again? Val, per usual, was still single; the poor girl couldn't seem to find a guy interested in her. Sabrina made a mental note to try and find someone for Val so they could have a double-date for the weekend.

Of course, now that she was a Spirit Detective, her plans would probably be forever interrupted. If the dates she had with Harvey weren't crazy enough to begin with (running home due to some magical malady or spell gone awry didn't improve one's date), she'd have Drell and his stupid missions to deal with.

_I guess I'll just have to have back-up plans, or get Drell to notify me in advance…_

Cheered by the thought, she plopped onto the stool next to Val, grinning at her friend and winking at Harvey.

Was it her imagination, or did he look slightly…**guilty**?

* * *

The rest of the morning passed uneventfully; Libby had kept her snide and rude comments to a minimum, mostly because she was thoroughly discussing the college party she'd attended that weekend with Cee Cee and Jill, her equally shallow best friends.

Sabrina hummed as she scanned the lunch line for something edible. Eventually, deciding that the 'Tuesday Surprise' looked surprisingly disgusting, she grabbed a carton of milk, a banana, and a bag of chips. The blond girl glared at her lunch as she walked to her usual table in the lunchroom's 'no man's land.'

"It'll be amazing if I survive high school with the daily nutrients I need to grow," Sabrina announced as she sat down. "I've eaten fruit and chips how many days out of a week? No wonder I'm so short," she added glumly.

"Because of the sub-par cooking?" Val cocked an eyebrow as she stirred her mashed potatoes. "You get used to it, I guess."

"Well, I haven't." Sabrina glared at the lunch line. "It should be illegal to serve us that gelatinous, gooey, mushy, crap."

Val shrugged as she ate a forkful of potatoes. "Welcome to high school."

Sabrina sighed and ate another chip. Seeing Harvey in the lunch line, she waved him over. With an easygoing grin, he ambled over to the table. "Thanks, Sab. I'd never have found the table without your help," he teased, sliding in next to Val.

Sabrina playfully stuck out her tongue as they began to eat their lunches. They slid easily into the usual lunchroom banter—the girls sharing the latest hallway gossip, with Harvey rolling his eyes over his sandwich (and occasionally sharing some 'news' he'd heard in the locker room, since he wasn't as immune to gossip as he claimed), complaining about teachers and classes, discussing the latest movies or television shows, and trying to figure out just **what** the 'Tuesday Surprise' was really made of. (Val leaned toward heated mud and soy, while Harvey insisted it was pond scum and gorilla feet. Sabrina thought it remarkably resembled an anti-aging facial mask Aunt Hilda had once concocted.)

Happily slurping at her milk, Sabrina leaned back in her seat. She loved the fun, casual atmosphere of the cafeteria. That stupid case was over, Aunt Zelda was making seafood spaghetti for dinner, and Harvey had told her she looked cute in the pale-pink off-the-shoulder sweater she was wearing.

_Life is truly good._

"Hey, you guys wanna go to the movies this weekend?" Sabrina offered. "My treat. We'll get smoothies and a ridiculously huge tub of popcorn, and…"

"I can't," Val cut in quickly. At the incredulous look Sabrina was giving her, she flushed as deep as the cherry-colored skirt she wore. "I…kind of have plans…"

_Does she mean **boy** plans? Maybe her mom set her up with some co-worker's son again…poor Val. _

"Well, if Val can't do it, what about coming with me, Harvey?" she offered. At the very least, they could throw popcorn at each other, and maybe hold hands.

Harvey offered her a sheepish grin. "No can do, Sabs. Sorry," he offered.

_What? **Both** of them? Aw, man…_

"Oh," she said in a tinier voice than she expected.

"How about a raincheck? Maybe the three of us can go out **next** weekend or something."

"Uh, yeah. Okay…"

_Cheer up, Sabrina. It isn't the end of the world if both of them can't go with you to the movies… But…I wonder what they're doing…_

* * *

Zelda was idly flipping through her Better Brooms and Cauldrons, the magazine for the at-home witch. At the moment, she was trying to find the gardening section—their small patch of henbane was not growing as well as it should, and she hoped to find a suitable remedy.

Salem, of course, was engaging in his most stressful activity of the day: watching a piece of lint slowly waft through the air.

Hilda was still at work; the younger of the two Spellman sisters taught violin lessons at the local music conservatory. Hopefully, she wouldn't come home today complaining about the spoiled brats forced into taking lessons by high-minded parents—who then took their frustrations out on the teacher.

The blonde sighed as she turned the page in her magazine. **Everyone** seemed upset today: Sabrina with going back to school, Hilda with going to work, the mailman with Zelda's refusal to date him, and Salem with the fact that nobody wanted to hear about **his** part in helping solve the mystery of the haunted Gracey mansion.

_Nothing a good cup of coffee won't cure. Then again, maybe I'm becoming too addicted to caffeine…_

_Nah._

She put down her magazine and drifted into the kitchen, zapping up a pot of Irish coffee. Zelda gracefully sank into a chair, sipping her drink and staring out the door onto the back porch outside.

The yard it opened onto was normally a warm, verdant bed of vegetation, although now withered since the October chill had set in. A large lilac bush occupied one side, with hibiscus vines twining around the porch pillars and forming a screen of sorts as they climbed into the porch roof. A little garden path led to Zelda's personal picturesque herb garden, which was flanked on either side by flowerbeds.

Another path led from the sidewalk to the back porch, so it became Sabrina's favorite route to and from school; it meant quicker access to the kitchen, and, ultimately, snacks.

She should probably go and brew a cure for the common cold, Zelda decided, but she was much too comfortable here in her chair with her mug of coffee. She'd just wait and see how Sabrina's day went.

As an afterthought, Zelda pointed up a tray of brownies. Sabrina was normally voracious after a 'hard day's work' at school. That and Zelda didn't want anyone rooting through the fridge; they might discover a slice of raspberry cheesecake she'd hidden for herself…

Rapid footsteps on pavement announced her niece's arrival. Zelda brushed the thought of her secret snack away as she moved the brownies from the counter to the table.

Sabrina flung open the French doors, cheerfully tossing her backpack to the side. "I'm home from detention! Man, those look good…"

"How did your day go?" Zelda cheerfully asked as Sabrina tried to cram two brownies in her mouth at once.

"Waaay weird," Sabrina managed to get around a mouthful. She swallowed. "I was late again, and Kraft gave me detention. And Harv and Val were acting strange…"

Her aunt raised an eyebrow. "Strange?" Sabrina's human friends were the epitome of normalcy. For them to be acting **strange** meant either some sort of surprise party, or…well…

…something else.

"Yeah. I was talking about going to the movies," Sabrina informed her as she opened the refrigerator door, "and they both clammed up. Apparently, they **both** have something really important to do that they didn't feel like sharing. Is there any milk in here?"

Zelda hurriedly pointed up a glass on the countertop.

"Aaah." The fridge door closed, and Zelda's snack was safe. Until Hilda came home, anyway.

"Maybe it's something they feel is embarrassing, like a doctor's appointment, or a family outing," Zelda pointed out. "After all, you've cooked up enough excuses to warrant **their** suspicion."

Sabrina paused, staring at her glass of milk thoughtfully. "True."

"I'm sure there's a logical explanation," her aunt concluded, turning back to her coffee. She took a sip, and winced. Cold. How disgusting…

"You're probably right," Sabrina decided, placing her glass in the sink. "Maybe I really **am** just making a mountain out of a molehill…"

_Although I slightly doubt it…_

The teenage witch smiled, trying to shrug off her sudden thought. "I'm gonna go do homework. Call me for dinner, would ya?"

Zelda nodded, as she attempted to warm her coffee.

The teenager turned to the living room and jogged up the stairs to her bedroom. The curtains were open, and Salem was curled up asleep on the windowsill. Now able to relax, she plopped onto her bed and watch the sunbeams dance in lazy patterns on the wall.

…_something just doesn't feel right. Who do I believe?_

* * *

Yes, Sabrina is a science/math nerd. The book series state that she's an excellent science student, as well as very good at math (and most of the classes we see her in are math and science, interestingly enough). The "nerd" part was helpfully supplied by Libby.

Harvey does indeed look different in the comics/manga than the show. In the comics, he has black hair and blue eyes, is quite the pretty-boy, and plays for the basketball team. In the show, he's bigger, brawnier, with brown hair and eyes, and plays for the football team. I compromised on some things.

By the way…while this fic takes place during Sabrina's senior year at high school, our cast of characters is roughly the same as the show's second or third season (before the show got rid of most of the regular school cast; things weren't the same after that). That's why while it's senior year, there's no Dreama or Brad, and Libby, Val, and Mr. Kraft are still there. (Maybe Dreama and Brad will show up later? Who knows!)

On the show, Sabrina and Harvey do have a weird off-again, on-again relationship. Not so much the first season, but it gets more obvious during the third and fourth seasons. It carries over into this fic. The "Dashiell fiasco" Sabrina talks about refers to a teen warlock named Dashiell that she dated for a bit, before he and Harvey made her choose between the two of them. In the college episodes, he dated her roommate Morgan. Both Morgan and Libby are the snobby rich-girl type, so they seemed like ideal candidates to be friends.

Next Chapter: Sabrina finds that her doubts are, indeed, well-placed when a shocking event shakes her out of her complacency. Meanwhile, Shinji and Kenichi are in for a rocky time as Shinji reveals what happened in Drell's office…


	5. The Encounter

"You're unusually quiet tonight," Kenichi casually remarked. The elder Yamagi brother deftly speared a chunk of chicken from his bowl and ate it, eyes never leaving his younger brother.

Shinji pushed the chunks of meat and vegetables around in his bowl, never changing his withdrawn expression. "…so?"

"Not like your normal self," the elder answered. "Just seemed a bit odd," he remarked a little too casually for Shinji's taste. He paused. "Would you like more, or should I remove the pot?"

Shinji darted a listless glance at the pot of _yosenabe_ set in the center of the table. "No, thanks."

"Well, I think I'll have a little more," Kenichi cheerfully replied, helping himself to some more of the soup. As he slurped down some broth, Shinji glared at him.

This had been going on since the beginning of dinner—and since Shinji had returned home yesterday from the Council summons. He had gone to school in a zombie-like states, and once school was finished, he hadn't been much better. A bored, lethargic Shinji moped around the house, while Ken had adopted a slightly too-cheery mother-like attitude. His brother must have caught some inkling of the meeting, Shinji was sure.

_But he doesn't have to act like such a prick about it…_

"How was school today?" Kenichi solicitously inquired. "Have you gotten back the results from that chemistry test yet?" Without waiting for an answer, he continued on. "I was thinking about enrolling you in the Glory Cram School. The daughter of a co-worker of mine studies there, and apparently, she's raised her grades by 20% since attending there…" Kenichi paused for a minute to take a sip of tea. "Although I suppose I can't, now, since you don't seem to have any spare time from now on…" He took another sip of tea.

Shinji's heart skipped a beat, and hands clutched the chopsticks convulsively until the pair snapped in half. Frustrated, he tossed them to the side, where they hit the wooden floor with a clatter. "What are you talking about?" he queried, his voice much more nervous and high-pitched than he would have liked.

_If what I think has happened…_

"I found **this**," said Kenichi calmly and coolly as he drew an envelope out from under his sweater-vest, "in your room." Shinji blanched as he recognized the familiar paper and seal.

_Oh, no. It __**has**__._

The elder Yamagi brother lowered his eyes. "Would you like to talk to me about something, _otouto_?" His voice was soft and disappointed. Dark brown eyes, the same as Shinji's own, lifted to hold Shinji's gaze.

The younger boy slowly flushed as maroon as the shirt he wore, suddenly unable to meet his brother's eyes. "You went through my room."

Not a question; a statement. His brother's head nodded in return, although Shinji didn't need to see it.

"Why can't you just-" he exploded suddenly, frustrated and angry at what felt like his entire world being invaded._ First the Council, and now my brother, and who's next? Why can't they just let me be?_

"Shinji!" Kenichi tilted his head up, lips white and pressed tightly together. "Kindly explain just **what** is going on that you needed," his hand trembled holding the letter, "A Council summons for."

It felt like a bomb was exploding inside of his mind. "You went through my stuff?" He nearly screamed. He gritted his teeth. "I've told you over and over—stay **out** of my room!"

"Shinji!" Ken barked sharply. "You're acting like a child. Calm down."

Seething, the younger brother plopped back down, arms crossed, and glaring._ The asshole…_

"And as for searching your room, I am your legal guardian and as such, reserve the right to. And this," he gestured to the envelope, "seems to support my concerns. Now, kindly **explain**."

He would've loved to say no, just to piss Ken off, but that would probably result in his cell phone being confiscated or something. "Drell called me down," he began grudgingly. "He wanted to talk about my case file."

Ken slumped down in his seat, covering his face with one hand. He was mumbling something faintly; Shinji couldn't entirely hear, but it sounded like a prayer for mercy. Unsure of what to do next, he decided to continue. "Anyway, to kinda sum it up, he told me that I could get my file wiped clean if I do some sort of community work."

Kenichi cracked the fingers of his hand open. "Community work?"

Shinji nodded as he took a quick slurp of soup. Now that everything was in the open, it felt easier to talk about. It wasn't weighing down on him, although the fear and stress were still lingering. "He wants me to work for an investigation bureau for the Witches' Council; he called it the Spirit Detective Bureau, or something."

Ken raised an eyebrow. "A **detective**? He's trusting a juvenile delinquent with a position in crime fighting?"

Shinji shrugged sheepishly.

Ken leaned back in his seat, staring at the ceiling. He was quiet for a long time. Shinji nervously watched his brother, taking a sip of soup every few seconds to break the silence.

_I've never seen him like this before—he almost looks like Dad, when he used to get upset…_

Shinji stopped himself suddenly._ No. Dad and Ken are nothing alike. __**Nothing**__. Dad wouldn't scream and lecture me about the "proper" way to do crap. Dad always understood. Always…_

Ken slumped forward again, putting his elbows on the table, and his head in his hands. "Shinji," he wearily began, "what's going to happen to you? You're a smart kid; I know you are. Underneath it all, you're a good kid. So why do you insist on disobeying?"

Shinji was quiet for a moment. He wasn't sure how to respond.

Ken briefly lifted his face out of his hands. _He looks so old,_ Shinji thought, startled._ So tired. Like a man three times his age…_

"What's going to become of you?" Ken asked quietly.

His brother was still silent.

* * *

"I feel so stupid," Sabrina grumbled, pulling a pair of socks on. "Nobody goes to the movies alone anymore."

It was a Friday night in Westbridge; a few days after she'd returned to school. Just a typical Friday night. There were a few parties going on somewhere, probably, but most teenagers her age were congregating at the Slicery for the age-old ritual of a pepperoni pizza and a game of Foosball.

And instead of being one of them, Sabrina was going to the movies, by herself.

"I still don't see why you're making such a big deal out of this," Salem paused from grooming himself. "After all, Val and Harvey aren't your life. They **are** allowed to do things on their own, you know."

"But not without **me**!" Sabrina wailed. At the incredulous look Salem shot her, she threw a pillow at him. "Oh, knock it off." She sighed, reaching for a pair of shoes. "I just want things to go back to normal."

"What **is** normal, anyway?" Salem murmured, rhetorically. This was lost on Sabrina, who was crawling under her bed to find the pair of black shoes she wanted.

"I just want-" she paused as she fished one chunky-heeled shoe out, "my life to go back to the way it was, before detectives and dark magic and haunted houses took over." She pulled the other shoe out from behind her armchair.

"Well, that's not going to happen now, is it?" Salem yawned. "The only way to fix things would be to go back in time, and Drell wouldn't let us. Again."

Sabrina sighed, examining a tube of strawberry lip-gloss. "I know. It seems childish, I guess, to want everything they way it was…" With a shrug, she applied the gloss, and turned around, modeling her outfit to the cat. "How do I look?"

The black cat cracked open one eye lazily. Sabrina was pirouetting in front of the mirror by her door, dressed in an orange tube top and a pair of short black pants that ended at her knees. "Marvelous," he mumbled, snuggling into the comforter again.

Sabrina mock-sighed and rolled her eyes, grinning as she did so. She walked over and kissed him on the nose. "Silly cat," she murmured affectionately, giving him a good scratch behind the ears.

The teenage witch picked up her purse and turned to leave. She paused at the door, hand hovering at the light switch. "I should be back by ten, so…"

Salem began faintly snoring.

Sabrina snickered in amusement, and turned off the light.

* * *

Shinji burrowed his face into the pillow, pulling the covers over his head. Ken had taken the whole thing…quite badly, really.

_Well, what did you expect?_ He wondered rhetorically._ This isn't exactly the best thing that could happen to someone. I knew he was going to freak out; this kind of thing sets off his "perfect big brother" complex. Now that he's in charge, he feels like he has to make everything perfect. That's how he is..._

The Yamagi brothers served perfectly as foils. Kenichi was the elder of the two, traditional and formal. He was responsible, and more than a little uptight. It was Ken's dream to work his way up the ladder, from being a lowly security guard to an inspector, or chief of police. Ken would be the one with the proper, pretty little housewife and quiet, well-behaved children who went to the right schools.

Shinji was…**freer**. Looser; more relaxed. He grew his hair to fall to his shoulders, and wore skater shoes. Some weekends, he holed up in his room, playing video game marathons with the 6th grader who lived next door. He didn't care much about the competitiveness in school, or the strict rules society imposed. All Shinji had ever wanted was to be happy and have fun.

Unfortunately, **his** idea of 'fun' widely differed to what the Council's idea of 'fun' was.

His parents had never been exactly thrilled about his escapades, but had always been quietly supportive, in their own way. He could remember coming home with the tale of the latest scrape he'd got into. Mother always tossed her hands up and sighed, but giggled as he mimicked the Council official who tried to discipline him. Father had just listened, never judging, but quietly telling him, later, to be more careful.

_It isn't fair anymore. It just isn't fair. But that's gone, __**they're**__ gone, and there's nothing I can do about it. It's my problem, and now I have to deal with it…_

He could hear Ken walking quietly about the house. _He hasn't left for work yet, then._

How long had it been since their deaths? Each passing year made the accident feel like it was farther and farther away, like it had happened eons ago, and that living with Ken was how it had always been. As time went by, their relationship had shifted from trying to make sense of the tragedy to trying to make sense of each other. Two polar opposites trying to carry on their daily lives, circling around each other to try and find common ground.

He loved his brother. There was never any question about that. Deep, deep inside, Ken was his big brother, and would always look out for him, always love him. Shinji snorted in faint, slightly dark amusement.

_Somewhere __**very**__ deep down. We can barely talk anymore without fighting._

Kenichi could never understand the lax attitude of his younger brother. It was as if the strong work ethic, the traditional morals and way of life, just…didn't **matter**.

Shinji could barely comprehend his older brother. He was so stern and uptight. Didn't he **ever** have fun? Why was he so narrow-minded and judgmental?

It was the stupidest idea fate had ever devised, Shinji decided as he drifted off. Two people, who could hardly understand each other or get along, trapped together by their sorrow and blood ties.

* * *

She'd felt nervous the entire way to the theater. Stupid, of course, but she couldn't shake it. Sabrina had never had many friends before; Harvey and Val were probably the first best friends she'd ever had. They did **everything** together.

_I guess I just feel…left out. Everything was so uncomplicated before. Harvey was my boyfriend, and Val was my best friend, and we would go out and have fun together._

_Maybe I __**am**__ being selfish. I just want them to spend time with me…like I matter to them…like I'm important…_

Frustrated, she ran a hand through her hair. It **was** partially out of selfish pride that she was upset. The three of them had never really hung out with anyone else, never **needed** anyone else. They had their own comfortable little triangle, and rarely strayed out of it.

But the triangle was fragmented, and here she was, buying a ticket for one.

As she stepped up in line, Sabrina's eyes scanned the crowd beyond the ticket booth. She could see groups of kids from school, scattered about the lobby in small, chatty clusters._ None of __**them**__ have friends who bail on them…_

Sabrina sighed noisily. She was being selfish again. She really had to stop acting like a spoiled toddler. Still brooding, she purchased her ticket and slunk into the lobby.

The lobby was brightly lit, faint Top 40 music playing in the background, accompanied by electronic blips from the arcade, and the smell of fresh popcorn. Sabrina took in none of it, eyes half-shut, and pensive.

She was surrounded by kids her own age; not only from Westbridge, but Greendale and Riverdale as well, the neighboring school districts. Friends clustered around each other, excitedly chatting as they waited for the movie to begin. It seemed that couples were everywhere: the typical jock and cheerleader in front of her, two nervous-looking middle schoolers, obviously on a first date, and a comfortable old couple seated near the snack stand, sharing a soft drink.

Listlessly, she drifted over to the snack stand, deciding to purchase something highly sugary and fattening to consume while watching her mindless romantic fluff of a movie. That should take her mind off things…

But there was a flash of a scarlet blouse, and a swish of dark hair. A couple had just emerged from the arcade. The boy was wearing a Westbridge High varsity jacket, and smiling at the girl next to him.

Sabrina whipped around to face the cardboard cutout of a famous actress smiling vaguely as she plugged her new movie. The blond stared at the wall, praying for them to pass, pass by without seeing her, pass by without looks of guilty shock dawning on their faces.

Minutes passed as she stood there, shocked, eyes staring transfixed at the patch of wall next to the drink marquee. The other customers in line moved around her, faintly grumbling.

When the crowd thinned a few minutes later, she slowly turned around. Swiftly, she ripped her ticket in half, and left for the door.

Sabrina didn't feel like watching a movie anymore.

* * *

Salem was still asleep when Sabrina came home, throwing her jacket onto the floor, and curling up into a ball on top of the covers. She covered her hands with her face as faint rivulets of tears trickled through the cracks of her fingers.

She had never felt so shocked and betrayed.

_If they liked each other, that's one thing, but this…this…_

_Why couldn't they tell me? Why?_

_I never thought…the two of them…Harvey…I thought you liked __**me**__, Harvey. It was supposed to be you and me! You and me…_

Minutes drifted lazily by, but to her, it felt like an eternity. After some time, the tears stopped, replaced instead with a deep ache. Whether of betrayal or loss, she couldn't say, but it hurt deeply, nonetheless.

The lobby had been crammed with students from Westbridge who had seen her. They had undoubtedly seen Harvey and Val, too. How many of her classmates had seen all of them and figured out what was going on? The teenage witch lay quietly on her bed, imagining the prospect of going back to school: of her two best friends carrying on, hiding their secret from her, of everyone smirking or sighing behind her back at her ignorance…

She didn't want to face the fact that they no longer needed her. She was **useless**. Not even her friends wanted her: not Valerie, not Harvey.

The weight of her emotions pressed deeply on her in the silence. Her options were few, but there was one last, desperate option…one way to cope with the whole situation…

Sabrina pushed herself off the bed, walking over to the crystal ball sitting innocently on the corner of her desk. It was a simple matter to turn it on and get the operator to patch her through.

She waited, fingers drumming against the wooden desk top in nervous excitement.

"Yes?" The voice was gruff, and slightly drowsy, as if awakened from a good nap…or as if someone desperately needed a coffee break.

"Drell? It's Sabrina. How soon can you assign me to a new case?"

* * *

Oh, Sabrina. How overly dramatic and emotional you can be! But it's part of being a teenager—all those hormones and whatnot.

Just as a note regarding Sabrina's clothes: I'm beginning to lean towards the styles used in the manga. Some of the outfits are just too hot to be passed up.

Another fun Sailor Moon reference: Glory Cram School is the cram school that Sailor Venus attended, before she began fighting crime as a Sailor Scout. (With all these inside jokes, can you tell she's my favorite Sailor Scout?)

Shinji and Kenichi's parents are dead in the manga, and...well, it's the same here. (Sorry, boys!) Different circumstances, though; their deaths aren't going to be that much of a plot point, but for those who want to know, they died in a traffic accident.

More gratuitous Japanese!

"_Yosenabe_" is a type of thick soup; it's typically made with chicken, shellfish, tofu, and vegetables. Food such as this is often served in a large pot in the center of the table; family members help themselves.

"_Otouto_" is a way to refer to one's younger brother.

Next chapter: As Sabrina decides to solve her problems by running away from them, Shinji's being stretched to an emotional breaking point. Drell, of course, decides to intervene by assigning his new detectives a delightful mission to another haunted building.


	6. Escape Clause

She had spent a—mostly—sleepless night. Sabrina had stared at her ceiling for what seemed like hours. During this time, she had tossed around possibilities of how to cope with the whole thing.

Sabrina Spellman was an active person. It had never occurred to her to deal with problems any other way than by being direct. Unless, of course, the situation called for a little discreet magic. **This** situation was entirely different, however. There was no spell in either realm that could make Harvey fall in love with her, and nothing to make Val lose interest in Harvey.

What **could** she do? In the end, she would eventually have to return to school, keeping a happy, smiling façade, as if she had never suspected anything to be different at all. At some point, uncomfortable at Sabrina's hopeful romantic overtures, Harvey or Val would gently take her aside and 'break the news' to her. Then, perhaps, she would be expected to take up the role that Val had discarded, as 'dateless best friend/third wheel.'

And she wanted to postpone that as long as possible.

Thus was the reason why Sabrina Spellman was sitting in Drell's office at 8:32 on a Saturday morning, when she **should** have been blissfully asleep until her usual rousing time of noon.

Drell was garbed in his usual floral brocade dressing gown, tied over a fancy linen shirt with enormous lace sleeves. His frizzy, wild brown hair exploded around his face in a curly tangle. One hand played with the lace cravat at his neck, as his other hand tapped on the desk.

Employee and employer stared at each other for a long moment. "I'm not going to ask why you requested another mission so soon," Drell said finally, "but I won't deny your request. Given yesterday's...well...**conflict**, I'm just glad that you're taking this seriously."

Sabrina nodded; she didn't feel like explaining her change in attitude to Drell anyway, since she had a feeling he wouldn't understand.

The Head of the Witches' Council snapped his fingers, and a side door opened. Skippy, clad in his usual dark suit and bowler hat, entered, carrying a manila folder. His ever-present grin brightened upon seeing the teenage witch, and he waggled the fingers of his free hand in greeting.

Sabrina smiled, waving at the diminutive warlock.

_At least **someone** around here's a morning person._

Skippy wordlessly handed the folder to Drell, tipped his hat to Sabrina, and skipped out of the office.

_Well, now we know why he's called 'Skippy.'_

She turned her attention back to Drell, who was reviewing the contents of the folder. He pushed his round wire-rimmed glasses further up his nose, nodded in satisfaction, and slid the folder across the desk to Sabrina. "Your next case."

She gingerly took the folder. One never knew what to expect with Drell…

A large, black-and-white photograph was clipped to the first paper. Sabrina unclipped it, and held it up. The picture was of a large building, jutting into the skyline, quietly massive against a setting of clear sky and lush vegetation. A neon marquee on the front of the building read, in bold script, 'The Hollywood Tower Hotel.'

She raised an eyebrow. "A hotel?"

"Well, yes, but there's a bit more to it than that," Drell corrected. He folded his hands on the desk, looking his detective in the eye. "The story behind it is quite…fantastical, I suppose."

Sabrina straightened up in her chair, clutching at the folder. Excitement prickled at her scalp, as curiosity got the best of her. "Well, let's hear it, then."

He picked up a pen, and examined it for a moment, as if delaying on purpose to heighten her anticipation. "The Hollywood Tower Hotel was, in its glory days, a mecca for the show business elite," Drell began finally. "One of the most posh resorts in all of Hollywood."

_Wow…a hangout for movie stars! Cool._

"The hotel was built in 1917, and managed to last through the American Great Depression," he continued lecturing. "It closed in the glory days of Hollywood filmmaking, in the late thirties."

"But why?" Sabrina frowned, reaching for the folder again to re-study the picture. "You said it did well, even during the Depression. That doesn't add up. So why…?"

"It has to do more with the…disturbance that occurred there," the warlock responded gravely. He folded his hands, the perfect picture of quiet nonchalance.

Sabrina's eyebrow twitched. "Are you being vague on purpose, or did you just not bother to read the file?"

"Touchy, touchy. But it **is** quite unusual. You see, one night, five people got on an elevator at the hotel, to get to a party on the top floor."

Sabrina leaned forward, caught between begging for the next part of the story, or conking Drell on the head with a chair.

"Mysteriously, they never got off."

"They…they just disappeared?" Sabrina repeated. "How do you know they just didn't get off at another floor?"

Drell winced, as if wounded by her obtuseness. "Just doesn't get it," he mumbled under his breath. "Look, we have a tape made by intelligence agents." Here, he held up an innocent-looking black videotape. "Take it home, and watch it. It should explain the whole scenario, perhaps a little better than I can."

"I didn't know that the Other Realm had video technology back in the thirties," Sabrina remarked, reaching out for the tape. "I thought that came much later."

"Pfft," Drell shrugged. "Where do you think the humans got it from?"

* * *

As she exited the linen closet, Sabrina heard Drell's final words booming in her ears, instead of the requisite lightning. "The coordinates for your drop-off point are listed in the folder. Finish up any business you might have in the Mortal Realm, and then go ahead. Your partner will be briefed, and sent to meet you. All arrangements are taken care of. I want this finished as quickly as possible; if you complete this mission by Halloween, then you might avoid displeasing me..."

"Only a week to finish this, huh?" Sabrina scratched the back of her neck. "That's ambitious, considering there might not even be any clues to help us solve the case." She bit her lip, considering another piece of information he'd imparted.

A partner?" she murmured._ This is going to be weird. Having another person around who isn't Salem…yes, there was Leota, but she was a guide. I wonder what this new person will be like?_

Shrugging, she started down the steps, videocassette in hand, the folder left on the floor of her room. She looked at the cassette, Drell's words still ringing in her ears:_ "It should explain it, perhaps a little better than I can…" _

"For all he knows, they could have just gotten off at another floor, and left the building," Sabrina mumbled. "But I suppose I don't have any other choice, now do I?"

"Are you talking to yourself rhetorically, again?"

She jumped at the sudden voice, shrieking in surprise and fumbling with the videocassette. Once she'd managed to press it firmly against her body, so as not to drop it, she whirled around, glaring and searching for the perpetrator. Glancing around the hallway, it took her only a few moments to figure out just **where** the snarky commentator could be.

Sabrina pivoted to face the laundry basket placed next to the linen closet door, placing her free hand on her hip. "Salem, come out. It's no good hiding, you know."

"Salem's not here," was the muffled response.

"Yes, you are! Every time you go to hide, you hide in the laundry basket. You're not fooling anybody, you know."

The top of the hamper opened fractionally, and a pair of glowing amber eyes peered at her from under a pair of pantyhose. "I'd like to think I am."

Sabrina snorted.

"So, watcha got?" Salem's eyes brightened at the videocassette. "Did you rent something? I've felt like watching **Rush Hour** lately. I need **excitement** in my life, especially being stuck in the house all day."

"No, it's not a video I rented," Sabrina sighed and started down the staircase. "It's my next assignment from Drell."

Salem snickered. "Good luck. He's probably sent you to another haunted dump, knowing him."

Sabrina leaned against the staircase. "Actually," she remarked while casually studying the cassette, "I believe it's an abandoned hotel in Hollywood. And, of course, you're not required to come this time, since I have a part-"

The cat dashed down the stairs with the speed of an Indy 500 racecar and screeched to a halt in front of the television. "Play the tape," he demanded. "Play it now! Hollywood, here I come! They won't know what hit them; my talent and charm will overwhelm every agent there. I'll be a star!" Salem sprawled himself on a pillow below the sofa, lost in a starry-eyed reverie of (per usual) himself being treated with the luxury awarded to animal actors—like Morris, the 9 Lives spokescat.

Sabrina rolled her eyes, still standing on the stairs and clutching the cassette. "I don't think that'll be happening anytime soon."

Salem was either too lost in his reverie to answer…or had just chosen, once again, not to listen.

The teenage witch made her way to the couch, popped the cassette in the VCR, and sat back. "Hopefully, this should be helpful," she remarked to herself, as she zapped up a bowl of popcorn.

The tape caused a lot of static at first, typical black-and-white fuzz filling the screen. Thankfully, it cleared to black, and then displayed the Witches' Council logo—designed very similarly to a certain famous movie studio. A pompous, smug-looking cartoon bust of Drell was firmly sandwiched between the sides of the design, chest puffed out with pride.

"Heh, Drell just can't resist showing off, can he?" Salem commented, finally snapping out of dreamland and into reality. _Takes one to know one,_ Sabrina thought, but she had to agree. As she chuckled in response, he leapt onto her lap, and curled up. She began stroking his fur, as the logo screen faded, and the first strains of music began to fill the room.

The detective blinked. "Not to sound ditzy or anything, mind you," she said slowly.

Salem snorted. "Of course not."

"…but isn't that the _Twilight Zone_ theme playing now?"

They stopped, blinked, looked at each other, and then turned back to the tape simultaneously. Indeed, the familiar sci-fi television show theme song **was** playing, but the show's trademark opening sequence was nowhere to be seen.

"Where's Rod Serling?" Salem wailed. "It just isn't the same!"

"Oh, hush, you," Sabrina grumbled, swatting at him. "Just watch the tape, and stop talking." Salem muttered under his breath as he hunkered down on her lap.

The music quieted as the image of an office materialized on the screen. The room itself could have been taken from a turn-of-the-century library, with wall-to-wall shelves crammed with books and small curios. The desk at the center of the screen was placed before a large window, the drapes closed. Seated at the desk was a dark-haired warlock wearing a dark suit, a strange insignia displayed on his jacket pocket.

"It's all in black-and-white," Sabrina sighed. "Pity."

"It was before color was invented," Salem yawned. He raised an eyebrow at Sabrina's stunned expression. "Seriously."

"But…how…" she sputtered._ This is one of those points where you can't tell if he's lying and being an ass on purpose, or telling the truth, no matter __**how**__ far-out it is. Just forget it. I'm not gonna win here. _Wisely, the teenage witch decided to change the subject. "What's the badge on his chest?" she asked, pausing the video and leaning in closer.

"He's an intelligence officer," Salem yawned again, obviously not impressed with the video. "Given that particular design, I'd say he works in Human/Magical Affairs."

"And what do **they** do, pray tell?" Sabrina asked dryly. Despite her brushes with the magical law, she'd never come to fully understand the workings of it.

"They're a subsection of the Other Realm's Department of Intelligence. Human/Magical Afffairs agents gather info about magic in the Mortal Realm, mostly. They're the ones responsible for locating warpholes, finding creatures or witches that cross the barrier, keeping tabs about how we magical beings are relating with humans—that sort of thing."

"I'm not going to even ask how you know all this…especially about an **intelligence** agency," Sabrina shook her head.

The cat smirked, and she glared. "I thought not." She leaned back and pushed the 'Play' button on the remote control again.

The intelligence officer on the tape looked at the camera, sliding a manila folder out from a drawer on the desk. "_Hollywood, 1939_," he began, much like Drell, "_Amid the glitz and the glitter of a bustling, young movie town at the height of its golden age, the__** Hollywood Tower Hotel**__ was a star in its own right; a beacon for the show business elite. Now, something is about to happen that will change all that."_

The scene zoomed to focus onto the doors of an elevator, presumably in a hotel._ This must be the Hollywood Tower Hotel,_ Sabrina realized._ But what…_

"_This, ladies and gentlemen, is our best guess of what happened that fateful night."_

Five people began to come from off camera, walking towards the elevator, which opened. Sabrina paused the tape again, to scrutinize the figures: a well-dressed couple in evening wear, a stout middle-aged woman in tweeds, a bellhop, and a little girl dressed in frills and lace, much like Shirley Temple.

Letting the video play, she noticed text began flashing at the bottom of the screen. "**This is a re-creation of previous events. This is a staged re-creation**." Salem snorted in laughter, and she shoved him off her lap.

The elevator doors closed, and the camera cut to inside the elevator, to show the impatient occupants. The camera cut again to a shot of the hotel outside, a thunderstorm brewing overhead. Sabrina slowly inched forward, frowning.

Before she could comment to Salem, a bolt of lightning streaked out of the sky, striking the front of the building. The people inside the elevator were electrocuted, before finally vanishing into thin air.

She dropped back onto her haunches, mouth open. The announcer came back on.

"_One of the most baffling mysteries to ever shock the nation; the Hollywood Tower disappearance. Where did the ill-fated passengers go? Are they dead, or is there some sliver of hope that they may yet be alive?"_

He got up, and began walking around the desk._ "One thing is for certain, though; magic was involved."_ He held up the envelope._ "Human/Magical Affairs field officers compiled their findings, noting that various traces of otherworldly residue were centered in the elevator shaft. Unfortunately, findings were not able to determine the source or type of said residue. This baffling mystery calls into question the existence of the Twilight Zone,"_ the announcer said solemnly._ "Can it be possible that such a place exists—and may be responsible for these bizarre disappearances?"_

Sabrina hit the pause button almost immediately, whipping around to face Salem. "Please tell me that this is Drell's idea of a joke," she begged. "A disturbed joke that makes no sense. I mean, the **Twilight Zone**? Get serious! There's no possible way…" she trailed off as Salem simply sat there, stiff and unmoving, save for the occasional lashing of his tail. "Oh, God," she murmured briefly, "it's…**real**?"

Salem wriggled a bit. "In a way." Ignoring her sputtering, he continued. "From what I've understood, the Twilight Zone belongs mostly in the realm of theoretical physics; Zelda's probably the best person to ask for an explanation."

"But it's a **TV show**!" Sabrina suddenly shrieked. "A **mortal** TV show! It came from the twisted minds of sci-fi nuts, and…"

"_Bzzt_," Salem commented like a buzzer, "wrong. The magical community has known about the hypothetical existence of the Twilight Zone for…well, as long as theoretical physics have existed."

Sabrina's mind was, understandably, whirling._ This is too much to process. The Twilight Zone is…real? But if so…_ "Then how come mortals know about it?" she challenged. She paused a moment, as another thought occurred to her. "**Hypothetical**?"

"Yeow," Salem muttered. "One question at a time, please." He yawned and stretched, as if to broadcast his nonchalant attitude. "The universe we live in is four-dimensional, right?" he began.

"Width, height, length, and space-time," the teenage witch mechanically replied.

"Good. I see you've been paying attention in **one** class, at least." Sabrina glowered at him, but wasn't within reach of the couch pillows. "The theoretical branch of physics that Zelda studies has shown data that lean towards the existence of a **fifth** dimension—one that's more metaphysical than anything else. It's hard to explain…" he trailed off.

"But the theoretical aspect of it all?" Sabrina pressed.

The cat looked sheepish at this. "Nobody's conclusively proven anything yet. The data's there, but it's nigh impossible to actually **find** it, ya know? It would explain a lot of freaky stuff, **that's** for sure."

"So humans know about it, too?" she wondered._ Then why have I only seen it on TV, and not in textbooks?_

"Not exactly. Come on, think of the premise of the idea, the lack of data available to them. Does it **sound** like mortal scientists are jumping over the idea?"

The teenage witch picked up the remote, toying with it. "Still doesn't explain how they know about it," she grumbled under her breath.

"As long as humanity has been fascinated by the supernatural, they've wondered about its origin," Salem stated philosophically. "Who's to say that, to them, the idea of another dimension sounded right?"

Are you **sure** that the information didn't get accidentally leaked?" Sabrina asked, with a sidelong glance.

The cat yowled in surprise. "Of course not!" he protested.

Sabrina raised an eyebrow as she hit the play button. "Uh-huh."

"_The vague pieces of this puzzle yield few results. The complete disappearance of the elevator's occupants…the strange energy traces with no known source…the lack of eyewitnesses…no motive, and no suspects."_ The announcer stood up, and turned to head back behind his desk._ "With no clues, no leads, and no suspects, the Other Realm Department of Intelligence sadly must consider this case…dead."_

He opened the drawer of a filing cabinet near the desk, dropped the folder in, and decisively shut the drawer with a hollow_ bang_.

The announcer looked up at the camera, folded his hands, and gave a solemn nod. The_ Twilight Zone _theme flowed as the screen faded to black.

The girl and her cat sat there, stunned, staring at the black screen, which abruptly ended. As static filled the screen once the tape stopped, Sabrina blinked. Except for the crackle of the static, the room was silent.

Salem yawned. "That's got to be the **worst** movie I ever saw."

* * *

Shinji rubbed the back of his neck as he bent over his suitcase, attempting to finish packing. It wasn't easy; every time he turned his back, Moriko stole a pair of socks. He'd finally had to put her in the bathroom and close the door; she was barking with displeasure right now, but he forced himself to ignore it.

_I've got to remember to take her out when I leave; otherwise, Ken's gonna throw a royally hairy conniption fit._

"That should be it," he mumbled to himself, setting a few more pairs of underwear into the suitcase. "I don't think I'm missing anything…" He eyed the bag critically, assessing the bulging pile of clothes, shoes, toiletries, manga, and snacks._ Just in case American food doesn't agree with me, I can rest assured knowing I have perfectly good, normal food in the bag._

A knock sounded at the door as Shinji began to close the suitcase._ What does he want __**now**__?_ "Come in," he called distractedly.

Kenichi inched the door open, and caught sight of his younger brother attempting to close the suitcase over the mountainous pile of stuff. His eyebrows shot up, as he stared at the bizarrely random items poking out. "Maybe I should help you with this," he stated, immediately flipping the lid open.

Shinji watched in silence as Kenichi pulled his belongings out, and began to sort them into piles. Once every article of clothing was removed, the elder brother began to fold them neatly and place them back in the bag. Shinji shrugged, and went to his closet to pick out an outfit to wear.

It was a companionable silence, with Shinji flipping through his wardrobe, and Kenichi carefully packing the suitcase. It seemed as if neither brother knew what to say, and hoped that a relaxed hush could serve, instead. Kenichi finally broke the quiet.

"How long will you be gone?" he casually asked, magicking some plastic bags into existence, and sorting the snacks into them.

"Dunno," Shinji shrugged, trying to decide which pair of sneakers to wear. "A week, maybe, or two weeks?"

"I see." Silence again.

Shinji ran his hand through his loose mane of blue hair._ There are so many things left unsaid between the two of us. Why, when we're finally somewhat getting along, can't we talk? It's like there's a gap between us, and I can't cross it…_

"You'll miss school," Kenichi remarked. "And I'm sure that there's a test coming up in your nearby future."

The younger brother paused, thinking of the scrap of paper taped to his desk announcing a history test in a few days. His smile brightened. "I suppose I will," he grinned cheerfully. "Can't say I'll miss it, of course."

Kenichi studied the hairbrush in his hand as he paused in packing the toiletries. "I could stop by school while you're gone, and pick up your assignments…if you want."

Shinji stopped, and turned his focus to his brother. Kenichi had resumed packing, and was working on his task diligently. A soft, small quirk of a smile lifted the corner of Shinji's lips. "Thanks."

His brother looked up from under his glasses. He gazed at Shinji for a long moment, before nodding awkwardly. "No problem."

* * *

Sabrina sat cross-legged on her bed, flipping through the manila case folder. She licked a finger, and turned the page, unearthing a section of papers with photographs paper clipped on.

"What's that?"

She looked up, flicking a few strands of hair out of her eyes. A black shape oozed through the crack left by the semi-open door. "What do you mean?" the teenage witch asked, turning her attention back to the folder. "It's the case folder."

"The section you just opened." Salem leapt onto the bed, padding over to examine the papers.

"This looks like…" she paused, tracing a finger along the cover page. "This is the section with information on the victims. It looks like they tried to find anything they could that would be relevant to the case."

Salem used his paw to knock the papers around, separating each one. He and the teenage witch sat back, gazing at the pictures before them. "So, we've got five characters in this mystery," Salem mumbled. He gestured to each picture with a paw. "The actor, the actress, the child star, the nanny, and the bellhop."

"A weird collection of characters," Sabrina mumbled.

"Indeed," Salem nodded. "Except for the nanny and the kid, it looks like none of them were connected."

"So why were they all attacked?" Sabrina mused. "Was it directed towards one person in particular, or towards all of them?"

Salem twitched his eyebrows as he gave her a sideways look. "You think that this was an **attack**? That this was planned?"

The detective snorted, and waved her hand. "Please. It's all too random to be a freak accident." She picked up the files, and neatly stacked them. "An elevator randomly stops between floors, and just so happens to conveniently get struck by lightning? And the people inside also just happen to disappear?" She shook her head, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She picked up the picture of the Hotel stuck to the front of the case file and frowned.

"No. There was a reason for everything: that elevator shaft got hit by lightning, that the elevator got stuck, and that those people vanished. It's our job to find out who, how, and more importantly, **why**."

* * *

"Well…I'm ready to go."

Shinji stood by the front door of the house, his street shoes already on, backpack strapped on, and suitcase in hand. Kenichi stood a few feet away, twisting his hands around in his pockets. "I…guess you are," the elder brother said quietly.

For a moment, the two brothers stood and looked at each other. It was quite unlike anything that had ever happened before to them; for a few years, now, they had always been together (whether they wanted to be or not). What more could be said? Kenichi had become used to the quiet tenor of their lives. They may not have had a very communicative household, but it was one they could deal with. But now their lives were being turned topsy-turvy. Shinji was heading off to a strange country, to solve a mystery that could involve very real danger. He didn't know how long it would take him, or if he'd even be okay.

Kenichi almost hated to admit it, but he was **scared**. He feared for his brother's safety. He wouldn't be there to protect Shinji, like he had these past few years._ Some big brother I am. I can't even watch over him right now._

Worst of all, he could find absolutely no words to express any of this. Words refused to come to mind, and anything he tried to say ran dry in his throat. His wild, unpredictable, and hotheaded little brother was about to leave, and Kenichi was struggling to find something meaningful to say._ Was it always like this? Have we turned to silence so often to avoid clashing that it has replaced all of our communication?_

For his part, Shinji was shifting nervously. Ken had been acting different lately, since Drell had designated Shinji as a Spirit Detective and assigned him a mission. He was...more like the old Ken, before the accident. Less nagging. Less lecturing. Less hovering around Shinji and fixing everything he did. It was...nice.

He hated talking about deeply personal matters; the idea of talking to his brother about their relationship was terrifying and uncomfortable. Even thinking about telling his brother that he appreciated his help with the packing seemed frightening, like it could go down a slippery slope and open up thoughts and feelings best left unsaid._ Not yet. Maybe later, but not yet. _Shinji finally nodded, and turned to go. "I'll call you later, then," he mumbled, turning the door handle.

Kenichi's eyes widened faintly as protective instincts flung silence and uncertainty to the wind. "Wait!" The younger of the two paused, an uncertain and inquisitive look spread across his face. "Be careful," Kenichi finished, lamely.

The corners of Shinji's mouth lifted faintly. "I will."

Yamagi Kenichi stood, mutely, as his brother opened the door and left, heading for the portal that would take him on this crazy adventure._ For your sake, Shinji, I hope that you do…And when you get back, maybe we can talk about this..._

He groaned, taking off his thick-lensed glasses, and rubbing his eyes. Maybe he needed a good shower right now to relax… Kenichi shuffled off to the bathroom, idly wondering why the house was so utterly quiet in his brother's absence. So entirely free of **any** noise…

* * *

"Sabrina?"

The teenage witch looked up, holding a pink camisole in front of the mirror. Aunt Zelda stood in the doorway, arms folded, glasses down low on her nose. She was eying her niece expectantly.

"Y-yes?"_ Was there something I forgot to do? My homework's done, and my packing's __**almost**__ done, and I remembered to take out the trash…_

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

"Uh…"_ THINK, girl, think! There must be __**something**__ that you forgot to do!_

"I thought we agreed that today, you'd help me grade papers." Her aunt had recently been hired as a physics professor at nearby Adams College, and had thrown herself into her work enthusiastically. However, Zelda was also passionately loyal to her family—she'd taken the week off, after all, to look after her niece upon her return from the Gracey Case. Zelda gave her a stern look that brooked no argument. "I upheld **my** end of the bargain, after all."

_What bargain?_

"Well, I'm really busy, Aunt Zelda," Sabrina blurted, "seeing as how I still have to pack and everything…"

"Well, then." Zelda lowered her eyes. "I suppose we can always return this dress to the boutique, couldn't we?" With a flick of her index finger, a silky blue dress rose out of the suitcase, and sailed across the room to hover before Zelda. Sabrina's eyes bugged out as she quickly recalled cajoling Zelda to buy the dress for her, and promising to do 'anything' in return.

_Damn._

"So…when do we get started?"

Zelda snapped her fingers, and the two of them were transported to Zelda's office at the college. Her desk was practically creaking under the weight of foot-high stacks of papers from her aunt's students. The teenage witch's eye twitched. "I had to ask."

* * *

Shinji paused before the portal. "Was there something I forgot to do?" he muttered. He scratched his head, thinking for a moment, but shrugged and gave up.

"Must not have been important."

Back inside the house, Kenichi opened the bathroom door.

"AAAUUUUGGH!"

* * *

Many, many eye-twitching, paper cut-filled, pen-stained hours later, back at the Spellman house…

"And you've got your hotel confirmation?" Zelda Spellman paced back and forth in front of Sabrina's door. Her niece stood just behind her, suitcase at her feet, waiting impatiently to leave.

The teenage witch sighed loudly. "Yes, Aunt Zelda," she droned, fishing the papers out of the folder. "Right here."

"And your sunblock? It may be October, but it's always sunny in California, and I don't want you to get sunburned."

"Yes, Aunt Zelda," Sabrina groaned, "in my bag."

"And you won't forget to call us once you're there, will you? I want to make sure that your portal dropped you off correctly."

"I will, Aunt Zelda." Sabrina considered sneaking off, but her aunt was unfortunately blocking the door. No good.

"And you-"

She was suddenly yanked out of the doorway by Hilda. "She's fine, Zel," Hilda said firmly, steering the elder woman over to the side. "No need to be a worrywart. She's not exactly a newbie at this, ya know." The younger aunt winked at her niece.

Grinning, Sabrina made her way towards the door. "Just relax, I'll call and everything," she reassured her nearly-panicking aunt. "It won't be like last time, I promise." She stopped, frowning. "It **better** not be like last time. Or I may be forced to get violent."

Hilda blanched, as the idea of a screaming, machete-wielding Sabrina storming the Other Realm danced through her head.

"Either way," the teenage witch cheerfully continued, "I'd better be going. Make sure to give my excuses to the school, right?" She turned towards the stairs, but paused, making sure to hug each aunt.

Zelda hugged her tightly. "Try not to get hurt," she whispered.

Sabrina sighed. "Okay, okay. I promise," she mumbled. _Like I have a choice, though…_

Hilda handed her niece her suitcase. "Just ignore her. Have fun. Get a tan. Meet some cute surfer boys!" Zelda elbowed her sister in the ribs. "And do work! Make sure you do your work!"

"Are we leaving yet?" Salem whined petulantly. "The beach is calling to me! The surf! The sand! The cool, frosty drinks with the little umbrellas…"

Rolling her eyes, Sabrina picked up her backpack, Salem leaping into her arms. "Something tells me this is gonna be a loooooong case."

* * *

**Sunset Boulevard, Hollywood, California**

It was a nice, quiet alley, sandwiched between a travel agency and a small warehouse used by a local café. Not nearly as dark, foreboding and dirty as most alleys commonly are, the clean little strip of cement sat unobtrusively off the main street.

This particular alley will become quite important in a few minutes, as Drell decided to set the portal destination site here. But in the meantime, let's examine the rest of the street.

The particular section of Sunset Boulevard that surrounded the hotel was small, clean, and fairly quiet. The street was lined with bright shops, hotels, apartment buildings, and lush palm trees. People hurried about their daily business, or were content to lounge on benches and enjoy the sun. It was a quiet, bright little place.

Nothing would have ever suggested that it had such a dark, dirty little secret.

Keep that in the back of your mind as we return to our intrepid little detective, as she and her animal-familiar/partner enter the scene:

"I still don't see why you had to come along," Sabrina grumbled as the portal opened a pathway to the alley. "Drell assured me that he assigned another detective to this case."

"Knowing him, it's a newbie," Salem scoffed. "A wannabe gumshoe who we'll have to lead around by the hand and spoon-feed information."

Sabrina lifted an eyebrow. "I seem to recall," she remarked, in an off-handed manner, "a girl and a cat who were put into the same situation scarcely a week ago. Two 'newbies' who also had no idea what they were doing."

"But that's different," Salem protested. "We're **experienced** now."

"**Are** we?"

Salem nodded vigorously. "Of course! And if we're going to work with this newbie, we'll need to show him the ropes."

Sabrina felt like smacking her head into the brick wall in front of her. "And you feel this makes you qualified?"

"Precisely."

Groaning, Sabrina grabbed her suitcase in one hand. "Forget I even asked," she mumbled, making her way towards the front of the alley.

"Plus, I—er, **we**—get free room service," the cat mumbled under his breath, licking his chops as he sprang after the girl._ Mmm…sushi…caviar…goose-liver pâté…liver omelets…yes!_

"I hope I'm dressed okay," Sabrina remarked as she patted her outfit down.

The cat yawned, as if to show his boredom at the topic. "You look fine."

"You think?" Sabrina tugged at her jacket. It had taken her most of an hour to decide what to pack, and more importantly, what to wear. She'd had to balance Californian weather against her own East Coast wardrobe, while trying to decide how professional she wanted to appear. She'd finally decided on a belted mid-thigh length dark blue skirt, a black tank top, a cropped plum-colored mini-blazer, and black ankle-length boots.

"I don't see why your outfit had to be so important," Salem muttered, licking a paw to smooth the fur down. "It doesn't really matter what you wear, ya know."

"That's because you're a guy," Sabrina tossed her head, scattering pale blonde locks over her shoulder. "Guys just don't understand how important appearances can be."

"Maybe," the cat conceded, "but you don't have to be so obsessive about it."

"I'm not," she muttered in her defense. "And besides…I wanted to look nice." She nervously tugged at her blazer. "I want to make a good impression on my new partner."_ I want her…or him…to think well of me._

The cat sighed and rolled his eyes. "Just be your normal, charming, fun-loving self, and I'm sure you'll have no problem." He paused. "Just be careful you don't klutz out, though. As anyone will tell you, property damage usually makes a lasting impression—and not usually a good one, either."

Sabrina bit her lip, digesting this, as she continued to fiddle with the blazer's hem. "I still can't help being nervous, though."

"Your problem, not mine." Salem leapt onto the suitcase, and bounded into the backpack from there. "Now, are we going to chat in an alley all day, or are we going to find that beautiful, air-conditioned, room-service hotel?"

Sabrina smirked. "With a pep talk like that under my belt, how can I refuse?" Gripping her suitcase more firmly, she walked into the bright sunshine of the main street. Blinking a little in the direct light, she zapped up a pair of sunglasses.

"Where to?" she mused, watching the people stroll along the street. "Of course! The hotel." She dropped the suitcase, and pretended to rummage in her backpack, for the sake of being discreet. "Salem, where's the hotel reservation sheet? I need the address."

"It's the Cayuga Seaside Hotel," Salem yawned, cuddling up inside the backpack. "It's at the end of the block. Just keep going."

"Fine, fine."

As she strode down the street, Sabrina took the time to admire—and take note of—her surroundings. This was one of the older sections of town, and there was plenty of architectural charm. Old-fashioned wrought-iron lamp posts and park benches dotted the sidewalk, interspersed with lush-leaved palm trees. Brick exteriors and old-fashioned trim were commonplace on most buildings, the majority of which were shops of various kinds.

_It's gorgeous here_, she noted, tugging her sunglasses down to examine a passing store window._ But why do I have this slightly eerie feeling? Almost like…something lurking around here. Not too close, just out of my reach…it's creepy._

She shuddered involuntarily, despite the warm California sunshine. "Are you cold?" Salem inquired, his voice muffled by the backpack.

"I'm fine," she replied in a low voice. "And keep quiet!" she added as an afterthought in an urgent whisper.

A disgruntled snort was her only reply._ I really hope he's not going to be so testy all week long. I might have to drown him in the hotel pool._ Her eyebrow twitched.

Walking briskly, she reached the corner of a street block—the home of the Cayuga Seaside Hotel. Sabrina leaned against a lamppost, evaluating the hotel's façade. The building had to be at least sixty or seventy years old, and looked more like an apartment building than a hotel. A pale yellow exterior, with chipped white wooden trim and wide windows, gave the building a comfortably shabby appearance.

Salem wriggled his way out of the backpack, just enough to pop his head out. He made a scoffing sound. "I've seen scratching posts that look more appealing."

"What did I tell you about staying hidden?" the teenage witch hissed, shoving him back into the backpack. "We can't afford to appear too suspicious!"

"Right," the cat mumbled as he disappeared into the recesses of the bag, "and **you're** not suspicious at all, talking to your backpack."

Sabrina blinked in surprise as she realized that a few passerby were staring at her oddly, indeed. Nervously laughing, she tried to think of an excuse. When none came immediately to her, she tried to casually slip into the hotel doors.

Red-faced, she leaned against the door. A poker-faced man stood behind the front desk, hotel register open before him. He looked less than enthusiastic about Sabrina's appearance. Taking a deep breath, Sabrina walked toward him, digging in her backpack for the reservation information. Her eyes flitted about the room, taking everything in.

A wide, sturdy-looking wooden staircase curved elegantly upward at her left, towards the upper levels. Before her, at the end of the room, were the front desk, an oddly paneled red door, and an open doorway, leading into a dimly lit hallway.

Plopping her suitcase down before the desk, she favored the clerk with a smile. "Hi, I have a reservation here under the name of Spellman." She handed him the papers, watching his eyes flicker for a moment as he read the top sheet.

"Ah. Yes. Miss Spellman," he drawled out. "We indeed have a reservation under that name. The room is pre-paid, as well. Your partner arrived here earlier. The two of you have separate rooms on the fifth floor."

"Nice!" Salem cried out in delight.

The desk clerk frowned, studying her backpack. Panicking, Sabrina pretended she had just spoken. "That's great!" she added quickly, lowering her voice to mimic Salem's muffled tone.

"Of course, miss," he replied mechanically, in a bored tone. "You're stationed in room 513; your partner has number 514 next door." He handed her the room key.

Twirling the key around her fingers, Sabrina shifted the backpack on her shoulders. "Where can I find…uh…her?" she asked, realizing that Drell hadn't even told her the name of her partner, let alone his or her gender._ Wow, do I feel stupid now…_

"I believe **he** is currently outside in the garden," the desk clerk raised an eyebrow. "You can reach it through this hallway," he gestured towards the passage. He stopped to look at her suspiciously.

Sabrina gave a flat laugh, scratching the back of her head. "Uh…thanks. I'm…uh…gonna go now, so thanks, Mr…." she paused, realizing again that there was a name she didn't know.

"My name is Bradbury," the clerk said shortly. "Please feel free to call the front desk if there's anything you need."

Nodding, Sabrina nervously sidled towards the staircase._ I've got to get out of here…Mr. Bradbury's kind of creepy…_

"There **is** an elevator, you know." Mr. Bradbury's nasal tone cut through her thoughts. He gestured towards the red door. "Unless, of course, you'd prefer to carry your suitcase up five flights of stairs."

"Thanks!" Sabrina nervously chirped, hefting her suitcase towards the door. She jabbed the call button once, then twice, impatient for the doors to open. Bradbury raised a lazy eyebrow at the teenager's nervous actions.

The door clicked open, and Sabrina pulled it out, wrestling to pull the suitcase in with her into the cramped space. "Bye!" she managed, as she shoved the case sideways against the elevator wall. Bradbury didn't reply, but continued staring.

As soon as the doors closed, she slumped against the wall. "Thank God. That man is entirely too creepy."

Salem snickered. "So much for not being suspicious. You looked like you'd just robbed a bank."

"I couldn't help it!" Sabrina moaned. "He's like Mr. Kraft. Somehow, they can see through **anything**. It's like they have built-in 'weirdness' detectors or something."

Before Salem could make a retort, a chime faintly sounded, and the door clicked open. Yet again, Sabrina had to wrestle her suitcase (which hadn't seemed so heavy or bulky **before** they went into the small elevator) out the door. "What did you pack in that thing, rocks?" Salem squalled, as Sabrina nearly fell over while trying to pull it upright.

"Just clothes…and shoes…and a hairdryer…and stuff," Sabrina evasively replied, brushing a stray wisp of hair out of her eyes. "The contents must have settled or something."

Salem made a small, skeptical noise, as the teenage witch finally wrestled the suitcase into submission and fished the key out of a pocket in the blazer's inner liner. "Now, which room was it…" She started down the hallway, noting the walls were painted a soft, pale shade of blue. After a scant amount of searching, Sabrina found their room, unlocked the door, and threw it open.

"Finally! Comfort!" The Burmese cat wriggled his way out of the backpack, and in one fluid, graceful motion, leapt onto the bed in front of him, snuggling into the comforter. He purred, nuzzling the fabric. "Bliss…"

Chuckling, Sabrina tossed her backpack to the floor, assessing the room for herself. The floor was bare hardwood, glowing faintly golden in the mellow sunshine pouring through the window. The bed Salem was currently curled up upon was a double, covered in a plush-looking white coverlet, with lace trim and matching pillows. She winced, thinking about the black hairs he'd leave behind._ Note to self—get a lint roller._ The furniture—a dresser, desk, and chair-were of a faintly lighter shade than the floor, made of warm golden wood, and looking several decades older than the room's occupant. The walls were the same white shade as the coverlet, and just as bare as the floor.

_No-frills, huh? Well, at least it doesn't smell like mothballs…_

She dropped her suitcase next to the bed, and ambled over to the window. "But the view's great," she said aloud, pressing a hand to the window casement.

Indeed, the view from her window was a sight to behold; it overlooked Sunset Boulevard, giving her a clear view of the both the palm tree-lined street and the hilly horizon. Below her were the pastel blocks of shops, and emerald swathes of treetops, while ant-sized people milled about on the sidewalks.

She pushed the window open, and leaned on the sill, breathing in the myriad of scents wafting up from the street below. Sabrina inhaled deeply, basking in the sunshine streaming down._ It's so beautiful here…I wish I was on vacation._ She leaned forward a little further, to see how far down the street she could peek. "Salem, you've gotta check this out! The view's fantastic!"

Salem opened one golden eye briefly, then snuggled into the covers. "No thanks. I'll be more comfortable here than hanging out the window."

The teenage witch chuckled. "I thought cats were supposed to have a good head for heights," she teased, arching an eyebrow.

"Not when it involves leaning out a window five stories up from a busy street, they don't," he replied, somewhat muffled by the blankets. "You just have a good time."

She turned around, leaning against the window, smiling at her familiar._ Scaredy cat,_ she mused, affectionately. A stray thought floated across her mind, causing her to frown. "Weren't we supposed to do something?"

"I believe you were going to go meet your new partner in the garden," Salem yawned. "I say, go for it. I'll stay here and guard the room."

"You are the laziest being I have ever met," Sabrina informed him. "Just don't mess the bed up too much." Running her hands through her hair, she started for the door._ This is going to be a very __**long**__ case, indeed._

"And stop smirking!" She shouted as she slammed the door.

* * *

"When **is** he going to get here?" Shinji grumbled impatiently, running one hand through his mane of electric-blue hair. Patience was a virtue seldom exercised by the young warlock, who preferred action and movement and patience and inactivity. At the moment, he was sitting at the edge of the courtyard's fountain, waiting, albeit impatiently, for his new partner to arrive.

"At the very least, he could have told me what time he was getting here," the teen mumbled. With a bored groan, he slumped forward, resting his chin in his hands.

The small garden that the hotel boasted was nothing more than a small courtyard with a fountain and overgrown flowers, but retained a bewitching charm nonetheless. Lilac and periwinkle hibiscus blooms twined up the walls, around the gutters, and caressed the windows, shining like jewels amidst a sea of foliage. The warm sunlight, heady floral aromas, and gentle splashing of the fountain made the garden an excellent place to relax.

Unfortunately, he couldn't.

_Ugh, I'm nervous. I shouldn't be—there's no reason to be—but I am. …Ah, who am I kidding? It __**is**__ important. _ He squirmed slightly._ I need to complete this mission if I ever want to have an actual life again. And I can't do that if my partner and I end up hating each other. Or if he turns out to be a douchebag who wants to sabotage me. What if he's really weird and smelly and decides that we're best friends? What if he's just like my __**brother**__?_

He groaned again, propping his left elbow on his knee, and began rubbing his head with the same hand in a vague attempt to stave off an impending headache. Lost in his worried reverie, Shinji failed to notice the sound of a door swinging open, and heeled feet hesitantly stepping onto the stone floor of the courtyard.

Sabrina, in the meanwhile, managed to take the elevator down to the lobby and quickly sidled past the empty front desk, just in case Mr. Bradbury should choose to reappear. The hallway went past a few guest rooms and what looked like doors to supply closets, ending at a glass-paneled door. She perked up at the sight of the garden beyond, and eagerly pushed the door open.

She had stepped out cautiously, to better appraise the situation; perhaps she would have a few moments to quietly observe her new partner, if she or he did not notice her immediately. She was not disappointed.

Sitting rather artistically at the fountain was a teenage boy who could only be the partner Drell had spoken of. Tall and athletic-looking, with long limbs, he was slumped to one side, elbow propped upon his knee, and massaging his forehead with the same hand. He was dressed in a pair of khaki pants, with a maroon T-shirt layered over a dark long-sleeved one. He looked almost like any other normal human teenage boy.

Almost, though. She didn't know many human boys who had electric-blue hair.

_Could it be more obvious that he's a warlock? I wonder where in the Other Realm he comes from; he looks almost like a Japanese anime character. On him, though, the hair looks good…_

Sabrina felt her face slowly flush as she realized just how good-looking he was. The boy's face was oval-shaped, with a lightly pointed chin and slightly slanted cheekbones. His eyes were closed, and nearly hidden by the bright mane of hair that fell to his shoulder blades. His lips were moodily pursed, and his face slightly scrunched; he appeared to be in deep thought.

_He's…he's…**gorgeous**…_

The self-control Sabrina had developed as she matured was nothing short of remarkable to her, now; she could remember a time when the mere sight of a boy as handsome as this would send her brain short-circuiting, and her legs into quivering jelly.

Well, not that her legs weren't quivering a little now, and she was having a bit of trouble focusing on anything else at the moment…

_Oh, get a grip on yourself, Spellman! He's just a guy. Repeat that to yourself: just a guy. Just another teenage boy. A very cute teenage boy…a **handsome** boy…with amazing hair and…darn. Curse these hormones!_

Involuntarily, she took a step back, shaking her head in an effort to free it from the haze clogging it. The heels of her boots clicked against the stone floor, startling the boy out of his reverie. His eyes snapped open, and swept about his range of vision, looking for the source of the noise. He lifted his head, eyes finally catching the sight of the blonde girl.

She'd been about to introduce herself, or ask what his name was, but at the sight of his eyes, the words caught in her throat. Warm, expressive eyes the color of milk chocolate curiously stared at her. Sabrina could feel her feet stick to the floor as a rosy blush spread further across her cheeks.

His dark eyes studied her carefully. They lingered on her hair and eyes for a few moments more, then scanned the rest of her body, down to her feet. A choked squeak of indignation forced its way out of her mouth, as he began to look upwards again, towards her face. The boy's eyes burned into hers again, before noting the strawberry flush spreading across her cheeks.

His face broke out into a small, warm grin at that, in good humor. He pushed himself off of the fountain and stood, eyes twinkling in amusement. Finally, he broke the silence. "Are you my partner? The other Spirit Detective that Drell sent?" There was a trace of an accent and a certain halting quality about his words, as if he'd been practicing English, not accustomed to conversing in it.

A wave of warm relief washed over her, mixed with faint admiration._ Yes, indeed, Drell knows how to do his job…_ Still a bit shocked, she forced herself to nod faintly in reply.

"Aaah." He gently inclined his upper body towards her, in a semi-bow. He looked back up at her.

Sabrina was still rather stunned, and a bit confused at the moment._ What I am supposed to do?_

The boy chuckled slightly, eyes twinkling again. He held out his hand towards her, smiling. "My name is Yamagi Shinji…" he paused, frowning. "Excuse me. American-style, it's Shinji Yamagi._ Yoroshiku onegai shimasu_."

Realizing she was still just standing there, gaping like a fish, Sabrina forced herself forward. She grasped his hand, shaking it. "Sabrina Spellman," she blurted. "Pleased to meet you."_ He's got such a warm smile…it makes you feel at ease right away._

"As am I," he replied, with a grin. "I have never been to America before, but I can see that it is very lovely." Sabrina faintly blushed again at his appreciative gaze.

_Well, he's sure friendly…a bit flirtatious, but I've never held that against anybody._

With a slight laugh, she realized she was still shaking his hand, and dropped it. He chuckled a bit as well, before placing his hands in his pockets. The promise of another awkward silence loomed in the air, and Sabrina hurried to ward it off.

"Would you like to come back inside the hotel?" she offered. "We could see about getting dinner, talk about the case, get to know each other...or something..." she finished, nervously.

Shinji offered her another warm smile, and beckoned her towards the door. "Dinner would be great."

* * *

This is the longest chapter I've written for this fic so far. So many events to cram into one chapter! I tried to condense it as much as possible, but...well, that's how it is.

Yes, Drell's a bit unorthodox in his mission briefing. However, in the ride itself, guests are taken into the library, where they are shown a video spiel giving the ride's story. Drell also doesn't like having people in his office longer than necessary; he usually just yells at them for a bit and then throws them out. It seemed best to have Sabrina watch it at home (and the beginning of the intelligence officer's spiel is verbatim from the ride script, by the way, just wanted to clear that up). It's 1999 in the story, so they're still using VHS. Oh, the nostalgia!

Oh, and most of the chapter titles are taken from Twilight Zone episodes. Heh, heh. (With very few exceptions; I think maybe 4 chapter titles aren't taken from the Twilight Zone.)

Something I must confess: I've never been to California, much less Sunset Boulevard. I **have** been to Disney World, though, and the Sunset Boulevard in this story will be based on the Sunset Boulevard found in Disney World's Disney/MGM Studios theme park. I apologize for the difference, but trying to research the real Sunset Boulevard and transplant it in here would have caused too many inconsistencies. Chalk it up to another quirk of the universe that Sabrina and her cohorts inhabit.

The Cayuga Seaside Hotel is a fictional hotel, and named after the production company (Cayuga Productions, Inc.) that filmed the Twilight Zone. Mr. Bradbury, the charming (or not) proprietor of this establishment, is a reference to the noted science fiction author Ray Bradbury, of whom Rod Serling was a fan.

About the introduction scene... Shinji's introducing himself for the first time to someone new, so he bows (to be polite and respectful), and says his name (in English, since Sabrina obviously doesn't speak Japanese). The next step in the process would be to say "Yoroshiku onegai shimasu", which is kind of hard to translate, since it can have different meanings in different contexts. In this example, it roughly means "It's nice to meet you," but could also mean something like "Please be kind to me/please look after me." He just leaves it in Japanese, since it's part of the standard greeting and is hard to translate (phrases with double meanings are notoriously hard to translate).

Before I forget to say it, I don't own Rush Hour.

Next chapter: As Sabrina begins to hunt for clues, Shinji schemes how to get closer to his new partner. While the date he has planned may not go the way he wishes, the pair meet an invaluable asset to the case…


	7. Person or Persons Unknown

Sabrina began to dig through her suitcase, searching for the case file. It was her second day in California, and as Salem had oh-so-gently reminded her that morning, she was obligated to begin working.

_This is **so** not fair. I'm in gorgeous, sunny California, with a hot, flirty Japanese guy, and I have to work? It's like a ruined daydream._

Of course, the fact that everyone else she knew was back in damp and dreary Massachusetts and working or studying failed to register in her mind. It was still early, after all. She had license to be selfish this early in the morning.

Dinner last night had been fantastic; eager to escape seeing Mr. Bradbury again, they'd wandered the streets before finding a little hole-in-the-wall sushi place. Having never eaten sushi before, Sabrina had bombarded Shinji with questions and requests for recommendations. The Japanese warlock hadn't seemed to mind, though, and even picked out some things he thought she'd like. She'd remembered, of course, to sneak some back for Salem. Now, the two of them were hooked on _tekka maki_ sushi.

_Second note to self: find hiding place for Salem. Or we may get kicked out…_

She was able to conjure up bowls of cat food and water for the feline, a litter box, and a pet bed for him to sleep in (After all, black cat hair on a white blanket was rather noticeable). The problem was finding a place to stash him while the maid came in to clean up. The dishes, litter box, and bed could be temporarily zapped away, but Salem certainly couldn't.

_And third note to self: introduce Salem to Shinji at some point._

Sabrina cringed slightly. She'd been so absorbed with her 'dinner date' last night that she'd forgotten to mention the feline._ And I've got a feeling that this is going to be fairly important._

"Might I ask what you're doing?" the cat in question inquired. At this moment, he was wholly engrossed in one of his most strenuous daily activities—watching pieces of lint float through the air. It was usually so exhausting that he followed it with a mid-morning nap and a snack to keep his energy up.

"Looking for…a-ha!" She triumphantly pulled the folder out from under a jumble of sandals, brandishing it like a trophy. "Now, we can start."

"We?" Salem mused. "I hope you're referring to yourself and the newbie."

Sabrina rolled her eyes. "It's **Shinji**, first off, and he's going to the local courthouse. He's going to see if he can dig anything up on the building itself. I'm taking a look at the people involved."

"Awfully detailed." Salem yawned. "May I ask how you decided upon this critical _modus operandi_?"

"We agreed to it at breakfast," Sabrina informed him, pulling her laptop out from the suitcase. It had been an early graduation gift, to help her plan for college. The thought soured her cheerful mood as she held it in her hands._ I might __**never**__ get to go to college…_

Salem's voice crashed down on her musing. "Well, start it up, then," he demanded. "If you're going to be forcing me to help you…**work**," he shuddered at the mention of the word, "then we might as well get it over with."

"Oh. Yes. Right." Shaking herself into action, she placed the laptop on the desk, plugged it in, and started it up.

Salem frowned for a moment as the teenage witch sat down and logged onto the Internet. "I didn't know this hotel had an Internet hookup," he commented, eyes narrowed.

"It doesn't. Aunt Hilda got some computer geek buddy of her to install Other Realm technology on it," Sabrina grinned. "Among them being a program that lets me use connections from anywhere within a certain radius. Thanks to the local library," she patted the side of the computer, "we're on."

"Nothing quite like hijacking." Salem purred faintly, reminiscing.

"Uh…right." She quickly headed to stave off another "back-when-I-was-planning-to-conquer-the-world" war story. "I thought we'd start with our youngest victim."

She opened the case file, and pulled the victims' pictures out, spreading them in a fan on the desk. The detective selected her intended photo, holding it up. The picture was a formal studio publicity shot, in black-and-white. The subject was a small, Shirley Temple-like girl, about seven or eight years old. Fair hair curled in ringlets around her sweet, snub-nosed face, and her infectious grin coaxed a one out of Sabrina. The flouncy dress and ruffled pinafore the small girl wore only served to enhance the girl's "cuteness factor."

Typed neatly on the bottom of the picture were the names of the studio and the girl. "Sally Shine," the teenager read aloud. "Sounds like your typical child star." She shrugged, logging onto a search engine. She worked in silence for some time; at one point, she conjured up a printer to attach to the laptop, and printed out a small sheaf of papers. Interested, but unwilling to show it, Salem cautiously inched closer to the desk. The clacking rhythm of fingers on keyboard, and clicking of the mouse, lulled him into drowsiness.

The rhythm slowed down shortly after, eventually dying as Sabrina sat back in her chair and stretched, pulling her arms out behind her back. He yawned, broadcasting his feigned indifference. "What'd you find?' he mumbled, barely making the effort to partially open one eyelid.

"Sally Shine," Sabrina recited, "child star of the late 1930s, and little darling of the silver screen. Well-known for her famous tap-dancing and singing skills, and often referred to as the 'next Shirley Temple.' She starred in three major film features during her acting career, all of which brought her national acclaim."

Salem perhaps exerted a fraction more of effort to open an eyelid. "And all of this means… what?"

The teenage witch frowned slightly at the small sheaf of papers in her hand. 'For one, she was at the height of her career when she died. She was even scheduled to begin production of a new movie later that year."

The cat paused for a moment. "So, you think…"

"Perhaps it **wasn't** an accident?" She shuffled the papers. "Theory Number One: somebody didn't want Sally Shine around in Hollywood anymore."

"In my experience, when you take out a hit on someone, it's usually done without something as complicated as taking out a whole elevator."

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm not going to ask how you know that. But wouldn't that make sense? If you're going to kill a celebrity, why not make it look like an accident? Less chance of your plan being discovered."

The cat blinked. "**Paranoia**," he mumbled under his breath. Switching tactics, he gestured to the case file with a paw. "But why are you assuming that it's just Sally? Couldn't it be any one of the **other** people in the elevator who was the 'target'…assuming there **was** a target to begin with?"

"I don't know," Sabrina mumbled, tucking a strand of pale blond hair behind her ear. "It's just…this strange hunch…"

Later that afternoon, the teenage witch was relaxing in a plush armchair in the hotel's lounge. Research more or less completed, she was awaiting Shinji's return from the courthouse and public records office._ Hopefully, he'll get a little further than I did…_

She had stacked the information neatly into the case folder, which was innocently sitting in front of her on the coffee table. Drumming her fingers on the chair's arm, she snuggled back to wait. It wasn't her strong point, either; she was an active person, and her strengths lay elsewhere.

"I should have gone with him," she mumbled. Shinji had been plucked from his home, dropped off across the ocean in a foreign country, and left to fend for himself. Salem had argued that he could speak the language, and that the boy wasn't stupid; he could look after himself quite well. That hadn't stopped Sabrina from worrying, though.

_What if he gets lost? What if he accidentally breaks a law and gets detained/ Or…_

Thankfully, Shinji chose this moment to stroll into the lounge, a similar manila folder tucked under his arm. "Hey!" He gave her another one of his cheeky, charming, flirtatious grins. "Did you find any useful information?"

"For the most part, yes." She gestured to the folder. "And you?"

With another cheeky grin, he pulled the folder out from under his arm, gently tossing it onto the table in front of her. "Take a look."

Shrugging, she reached out and picked the folder up, riffling through the contents. A deepening frown creased her brow as she examined the documents more closely. "Uh…Shinji…"

"Yes?" He cocked his head to the side, bright blue locks swinging slightly over his face.

"…it looks like these are the original documents."

"...That **is** what we needed, right?"

"Sorta…but they don't let you take these. You're supposed to make copies. Didn't the secretary or whoever's in charge of the records tell you that?"

The Japanese warlock frowned briefly. "Not really. The woman at the desk seemed a bit upset at first," (here Sabrina's eyebrow twitched) "but after I asked for permission and talked to her for a while, she didn't seem to mind at all."

Sabrina covered her eyes with a hand for a moment. "Okay…maybe we shouldn't…um…mention this to anyone, since we could possibly get incarcerated. Or in more trouble with Drell. Whichever's worse."

Shinji blinked mildly.

Salem yawned, snuggling into the comforter. Sabrina had gone downstairs to talk to Shinji about the information they'd found, leaving him all alone in the room.

_But it's not like I have a problem with that_, he thought, yawning._ It's naptime for Salem…_

He'd buried himself partially under the blankets, letting himself drift away into Dreamland. The warm sun peered through the curtains, sending down shafts of radiant golden light. The cat yawned once, letting his eyelids slowly droop shut over golden eyes.

_Ahh…comfy…_

The bed was so comfortable, and the air so warm and still, that Salem wished he could stay here forever.

Unfortunately, that wasn't about to happen.

A loud rap sounded at the door. He cocked an eyelid partially open, blearily gazing at it. "Housekeeping!" a tired-sounding female voice called. Salem briefly wondered if he should call out, and prevent his existence from being discovered. After all, hotel managements usually had those stupid rules about having animals in a room…

It was too late to do anything, though, as the sound of a key rattling in the lock hit his ears. Both eyes opened now. "Oh, hell," he mumbled. Forcing his tired muscles to obey, he pushed himself up, eyes darting around the room for a suitable hiding spot. "No time…no time…"

The door opened a creak, as the maid began to pull her equipment off the cart.

"Hope this works," Salem grunted to himself as he jumped off the bed, then crawled under it. _Sabrina…come back soon!_

"So…uh…anyway…what **did** you find?"

Shrugging, he plopped back onto the armchair next to her. "The hotel's basic history, by itself, is nothing too interesting. Built in 1917, owned by the Todd family," he began to recite, stumbling slightly over the name. "Noted for the elegance of design, quality of service, and chic, famous clientele, the Hotel won numerous awards. And then…"

"The disaster," Sabrina glumly finished. "You couldn't find **anything** unusual? Nothing?"

Shinji shook his head. "Sadly, no." he paused for a moment, slightly screwing his face in concentration. "I did manage to go to the records department for people: births, marriages, deaths. I tried to look up the family that owned the hotel."

"Wouldn't they be dead by now?" she frowned. "After all, it's been sixty years."

He held up a hand to silence her. "Aaah, but here is something we didn't fully consider, _ne_? Something I didn't remember before taking a look at the papers you had." He leaned forward, face set and intense. "The hotel manager's son was the bellhop who disappeared in the elevator."

Sabrina blinked, processing this information. She smacked her fist into her palm. "Of course! How could I have not noticed that before? The bellhop's last name was Todd!"

"Yes," Shinji agreed. "What interested me more was that he left behind a wife and a son."

The detective's eyes widened, nearly to the point of saucers. "And I thought you had nothing interesting to tell me."

"About the hotel," he reminded her. He delicately pulled a sheet from out of his folder. "The widow is dead by now, but the son eventually married and had his own family—I was able to find one child still living in the area."

Sabrina eagerly accepted the paper. "Christopher Todd," she read, "…born in the sixties, that would make him about forty…"

"I then looked for his name in the phone book," Shinji stated proudly. "Yours is certainly smaller than the Tokyo directory," he added thoughtfully.

Sabrina coughed to cover her amusement.

He shrugged. "Anyway, I found a few men by the name of Christopher Todd living in the area, and wrote down their phone numbers. We can call them whenever we want."

She nodded, folding the paper in half and clipping it to Dewey Todd's file.

Salem paused, carefully crawling to the edge of the space under the bed. Using his nose, he peeked under the dust ruffle, hoping to figure out how long the maid would take. So far, she'd made the bed, cleaned the bathroom, replaced sheets and towels, and wiped the windows…what else was there? Why wasn't she gone yet?

Right now, he could see, she was putting together the pieces of a…vacuum cleaner.

Ah. That's what was left. She was going to vacuum the carpets. Salem crawled backwards, satisfied. He just had to wait a little longer, and she'd be finished. **Then** he could go back to napping on that lovely, lovely bed.

Salem winced a bit as she plugged it in. He hated the growling sound that the machine made—he usually hid in the basement when Hilda or Zelda vacuumed. And here, he was stuck. He sighed softly. _Well, you know what they say—what doesn't kill you leaves you alive. Or something along those lines. What was it, exactly?_

As he pondered the actual wording of the phrase, the maid edged close to the bed.

_Huh. This is gonna drive me crazy all day…what **is** the way it goes? Whatever doesn't kill you makes you…_

The maid decided to vacuum under the bed, just to be thorough.

…_makes you…_

A loud, whirring machine suddenly darted under the bed. Salem yowled in fright, and dashed to the side. The monster (really the vacuum cleaner) attacked again. He ducked and rolled—or tried to, as much as a cat could—like he'd seen in any decent shoot-out scene. Unfortunately, he ended up crashing into one of the bedposts.

"Owww," he whimpered, as his head smarted from the blow. If he'd possessed arms, he'd be rubbing the tender spot on his head. As it was, he was partially curled up, eyes crossed in pain, tail thrashing around.

The maid decided that she probably hadn't cleaned out all the dust, so she switched attachments. Figuring that the suction hose would work just as well, she decided to try again.

Salem shook his head, trying to clear the dancing stars out of his vision. "Note to self—start intensively studying Steven Segal films." Hopefully, he could learn how to fight with something other than his feline wiles. He felt a strange tugging on his tail. Snarling, Salem turned around.

Lo and behold, the vacuum cleaner had caught his tail.

"…this can't be good."

The maid frowned. The suction was blocked—the hose had probably caught on a piece of the bed skirt's dust ruffle—she'd have to pull it loose. Sighing, she got onto her knees, and unplugged the vacuum. She lifted the ruffle, and peered under the bed. A pair of golden eyes gleamed at her.

"AAAUUUGH!"

"And how did your investigation go?" He leaned forward inquisitively, his forearm accidentally brushing against hers. Shinji blushed a little, and moved a little further away from her, giving her a sheepish grin.

Feeling a little bit of heat pooling in her cheekbones, she tilted her head downward, letting her hair partially hide her face. She stumbled on with her findings.

She opened the case file, pulling out two pictures: a round-faced man with wire-rimmed glasses, and a broad-faced middle-aged woman, with a stern countenance. "I found virtually nothing on the bellhop and the nanny—save for what you told me about him, and that she was a naturalized citizen, originally from Britain."

The pictures went back in the file, to be succeeded by another one: a glamorous young woman, with elegant, sweeping hair, and a full, cupid's-bow mouth. "The other girl—the singer—I also found nothing on. It's like…" she glanced at the woman's profile, "Claire Poulet never existed. Freaky. But there was material on the other two." She shifted the papers again, pulling out two publicity shots.

"Here's the older of the two, Gilbert London." He was a stereotypical tall, dark, and good-looking gentleman, with a sharply chiseled face and piercing eyes. "He worked primarily in theater, his main venue being the London Palladium Theater—an extremely prestigious place. A year or so prior to the…erm…**accident**, he'd decided to make a transition to acting in films. He starred in one film—something Shakespearian, I think."

She paused for a moment, putting London's photo back into the folder, and slowly drawing out the final photograph. "And here's the final victim."

Shinji sucked in his breath as Sabrina laid the picture before him. "A child?" he asked, voice incredulous and wounded. "A little girl…killed?"

"Yes." Her voice softened for a moment. "Her name was Sally Shine, and she was Hollywood's little darling at the time—second only to Shirley Temple. A child actor," she hastily explained at the boy's slightly bewildered look. Sally smiled up from the picture, all sweetness, dimples, and soft ringlets.

"Sally was becoming increasingly famous around the time of the accident," she continued, forcing some briskness into her tone._ I'd almost forgotten how horrible it is…a little girl, killed…_ "Therefore, it's entirely possible that a rival actor or studio tried to have her put out of the way."

"But who would do such a thing?" Shinji protested. He shuddered faintly, slumping forward. "How horrible…to kill a little child."

Her first instinct was to move forward, but a fleeting rush of uncertainty made her stop. Sabrina hovered in the air, poised to touch his arm; whether out of sympathy or comfort, she didn't know.

Could she touch him? Was it too familiar?

It was strange—she'd never felt like this around a boy before. She had never before met a boy who could make her face flush with a smile, or her pulse quicken at a slight touch…

_Get over yourself, Spellman. This isn't a Harlequin romance novel, and you won't be finding true love in the arms of a tall, dark stranger. Welcome to the REAL WORLD._

Shinji unexpectedly lifted his head, facing her. Sabrina gulped, leaning back a little more. The two remained still, like figures in a tableau. He saw her hand outstretched, hovering near his arm. His eyes widened slightly; a faint blush spread across her face.

The dangling silence was snapped and broken by a screeching maid who ran past the door. "Vermin! Filth!" she wailed.

"Eh?" Sabrina blinked. "Wasn't that the maid from our floor?"

The Japanese warlock looked equally confused. "I believe so…"

Sabrina blanched for a moment as she hypothesized the reason the maid was in such a panic. "Uh-oh…"

He jumped up, concerned. "What's wrong?"

Sabrina flung the folder away, dashing out the door. She called over her shoulder, "Damage control!"

It was all a very confused Shinji could do to chase after her.

The door to the teenage witch's room swung open, as the two teens strode in, Salem slinking guiltily at their heels. Sabrina groaned as she sank onto the corner of her bed. She rubbed her forehead with one hand. "Thanks, Shinji. I owe you one."

The blue-haired warlock grinned, brown eyes twinkling, as he leaned against the wall. "It's all right. For you…anytime."

She shook her head, laughing slightly. "I still have no **idea** how you managed to convince her that Salem was a stuffed animal…"

"What can I say?" He shrugged expressively, his blue mane swinging to one side as his head tilted. "I have a gift for charm…and persuasion." Shinji winked teasingly, and Sabrina chuckled.

_He certainly likes to act the part of the 'bad boy'…he must be absolutely dangerous back home._

"Well…uh…anyway," Sabrina decided to switch the subject since some introductions were long overdue, "Shinji, this is Salem, my familiar."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure," Salem muttered, his tone tinged with faint guilt.

Shinji gave a deep nod of the head, before returning to stand against the wall.

The Spirit Detective gulped, confronted with another lingering, uneasy silence._ With that spectacular little scene we just pulled, I doubt we should hang around the hotel today. Maybe we should leave for a little while—but where?_

A quick rumbling noise reminded her that it had been six hours since she last ate. Both Shinji and Salem turned to look at her quizzically, as she grabbed her rumbling, grumbling stomach and laughed nervously.

_That's it! Dinner! We'll go out for dinner!_

Shinji was cocking his head slightly as he looked at her, looking quite cute.

_And he **is** really hot. And sweet. This is the perfect way to get over Harvey! A great dinner with a cute boy, some mild flirting banter, a long walk in the moonlight—it's just perfect! I just have to have suggest it in the right way…not too eager, but too disinterested…_

"Say," Shinji perked up, "you sound hungry. Let's get dinner!" He pushed himself off the wall. "I'll get my jacket.' He paused at the door. "And this time…" He turned around, and winked. "It's **my** treat!"

She blushed faintly, nodding. "Sounds perfect!"_ Darn. He beat me to it…but I'm not complaining!_

"Are you **sure** you're comfortable eating here?" Sabrina asked as the waitress left the table. "I mean," she lowered her voice, "I'm sure there are lots of restaurants around here that serve Japanese food, and…"

Shinji held up a hand, cutting her off. "No. Trust me, I'm fine." He cocked an eyebrow. "There **are** burger restaurants in Japan, you know. It's not strange or unusual."

"Oh." Sabrina shut her mouth, feeling incredibly foolish.

Shinji must have sensed her discomfort, because he immediately tried to reassure her. "Hey, it's alright! You didn't know. Don't worry about it. And besides," he winked again, "I would tolerate any kind of food, as long as I have a lovely dinner companion with me."

Grinning back, Sabrina relaxed._ He's so charming! But then again, he's also probably used to this…I bet he had tons of girlfriends back home._

"So, then," Shinji leaned back in the booth, "when should we get started on…ah, thank you." The waitress had brought their drinks. Sabrina accepted hers and smiled. Shinji had chosen to eat at Rosie's All-American Café, a small bistro specializing in sandwiches and coffee, and supposedly home to the city's best hamburgers.

They paused, sipping at their drinks. He looked up from his cup of tea, mentally grimacing at the bland taste._ Might as well be dishwater. I'd probably be better off getting a soft drink. _He paused for a moment, sneaking a glimpse at his new partner.

She was actually quite pretty, in an exotic fashion. _After all, they don't make them like that back home… _Sabrina looked a lot like what he'd heard American girls were. She had a narrow, heart-shaped face with faint freckles sprinkled across her cheekbones. She was much taller than most of the girls he knew, perhaps five and a half feet. And of course, she had blond hair—pale blonde, pulled back into a thick braid today, falling down her back.

_But her eyes…_ He smiled softly over his cup. _She really does have beautiful eyes…_

They were. Sabrina's eyes were long and almond-shaped, warm and bright, and such a deep, pooling shade of sapphire…

"Shinji?"

"Eh?" he started, nearly spilling his tea over the table._ Did she catch me staring at her? Oh, no… _"Uh…yes?" he offered with a sheepish grin.

Luckily for him, she sighed. "The investigation. About the hotel. And the elevator crash. Re-**mem**-ber?" she asked, drawing out the syllables teasingly.

"Oh, yes. That." His eyes were momentarily diverted to the next table over, where an old woman sat with a cup of coffee. Was it a trick of the lighting, or had she suddenly perked up at the mention of the words 'hotel' and 'elevator crash'?

_It must be my mind playing tricks on me…_

"Yes, I remember. What are you thinking?" he asked, bringing his attention back to his blond partner. She huffed, looking slightly indignant.

"We need to start actively pursuing it. We don't have much time."

"Sabrina, it's been sixty years since the accident. I don't think anything is going to happen to the hotel right now."

She frowned. "That isn't what I meant. Drell wants this wrapped up by Friday-by Halloween, to be precise. So we need to start, post-haste. We need to start finding people who know **something**."

"Like who? The bellhop's grandson? What would he know? He wasn't even born then."

"But he might know **something**," Sabrina persisted. "We have to try. We have to find somebody who'll tell us something more than ghost stories!"

Shinji sighed. "I know," he began, "but…"

"Excuse me?"

He blinked. That wasn't Sabrina. She blinked at him from across the table. Both slowly turned to look upward.

The woman who had been sitting at the table nearby was now standing next to their table. She paused, looking slightly hesitant, as if gathering her courage. She was old enough to be their grandmother—how old, Shinji couldn't say. Her hair was cut short, in a fluffy white perm. Her face was round and pleasant, although very wrinkled, with pink cheeks and bright brown eyes. The elderly woman nervously twisted a rolled-up newspaper she was holding.

I'm sorry to intrude on your conversation," she began, "but I really couldn't help overhearing you." She paused, her gaze darting to both of them. When neither spoke, she took it as consent to continue speaking. "Now, I realize this is a great liberty, but…what you were speaking of earlier…would it…could it…in any way, be referring to the Hotel?"

"The…uh…" The words stalled in Shinji's throat as he desperately shot a glance at Sabrina.

"The Hollywood Tower Hotel?" the woman pressed eagerly. "Am I right?"

He had no idea what was running through Sabrina's mind at the moment, but she nodded. "Yes. That's right."

"Oh, I knew it!" the woman crowed happily. "I just **knew** it!" Her eyes were shining brightly now—quite brightly.

"Um…you seem to be very interested in the Hotel, Mrs.…" Shinji trailed off, trying to figure out why this woman was speaking to them.

"Gregory's my name. Miss Abigail Gregory. And…well, yes, I am," she admitted. "I'm **very** interested in the Hotel. And the two of you are, as well?"

"…in a manner of speaking," Sabrina admitted cautiously..

Ms. Gregory regarded them with bright, sharp eyes. "I'd say a good deal more than that. I know it sounds a bit nosy, but…what do you know about the Hotel? Why are you here? Is it about…the ghosts?" Her voice had a strange lilt to it, her eyes challenging them.

Shinji's mind was whirling for a plausible response, but Sabrina seemed to beat him to it. "Yes." He nearly howled, wanting to reach across the table and shake her. "My name's Sabrina Spellman, and this is my partner, Shinji Yamagi."

_Why is she confiding in this woman? Is Sabrina trying to get some information out of her? Might as well play along for now..._

"Please to meet you," Shinji added, nodding deeply. Ms. Gregory beamed at him.

"The two of us are students at Adams College in Massachusetts," she continued, lying glibly, "and we're also part-time staff writers for _The Boston Citizen_."

Shinji's jaw nearly dropped. She was **good**. And this Gregory woman seemed to be buying it.

"The editor of the features section is a native Californian," Sabrina continued on, "and he wanted us to do a story on the 60th anniversary of the Hollywood Tower Hotel accident for Halloween. It could be our big break!" she added brightly.

"How nice!" Ms. Gregory beamed. "Perhaps I can help you, then."

"Thank you for your interest," Shinji said politely, hoping to gently nudge the woman off the trail. "But I think we know the basic facts. Halloween night, 1939. Five people disappeared mysteriously from the elevator including the child movie star Sally Shine. She became a legend. Tell me something I don't know," he finished, shrugging.

The older woman had cocked her head slightly to one side as Shinji listed the particulars, her eyes narrowing briefly for one moment at the mention of Sally Shine. She seemed to change slightly. The polite, slightly daffy old woman in a brown sweater and long skirt had receded somewhat. She was slightly stronger now, a little brusquer. "All right then," she stated, her tone firmer than before. "I'll tell you what really happened that night."

"Oh?" Sabrina perked slightly.

Shinji raised an eyebrow. "Really? How?" he asked, his tone bordering on the sarcastic.

Abigail Gregory focused a steely, sharp brown gaze on him. "Because, young man, **I** was there."

There are a few lines that are directly from the movie: basically, they are the more iconic, important lines that really "made" the film. Points if you can tell what lines!

Yes, _The Boston Citizen_ is completely made up—literally. I made it up, and so did silver-tongued Sabs.

Rosie's All-American Café is a real place that you can eat at in Disney/MGM Studios. It's an open-air counter service burger joint set just down the street from—you guessed it, the Tower of Terror. It doesn't really serve as a sit-down café like I described in the story, but I felt the need to class things up a bit.

Next chapter: Our intrepid detectives learn the story behind the Hotel from Abigail, who seems to have a strange interest in the whole affair. Meanwhile, Salem decides to do some snooping of his own…


	8. No Time Like the Past

"I still can't believe it," Shinji mumbled. "She was **there**? How old must she be?"

"Probably ancient," Sabrina teased, "but don't say anything like that around her." She frowned slightly at him, critically appraising his outfit.

Completely shocked by the prospect of her knowing something, Sabrina and Shinji had agreed to meet Ms. Abigail Gregory (who insisted they call her by her first name) the next day for coffee, to discuss the case. Sabrina tugged faintly at the collar of Shinji's red button-down shirt, trying to straighten it.

"Don't worry, I know how to respect my elders," he sighed, batting her hands away. "And may I ask why you keep adjusting my shirt?"

The teenage witch flushed slightly. "It's all wrinkled. And I want to make a good impression on Ms. Greg—er, Abigail."

"Sabrina, we already made an impression."

"A better one!"

Shinji shrugged, and submitted to her tugging and straightening once more. It wasn't like it would kill him.

_And after all, it is kind of cute._

* * *

Abigail was already waiting for them, a cup of coffee in her hand. She raised her free one in a beckoning gesture, then settled back down. The two detectives glanced at each other as if to say, "All right, now we're getting down to business," as they made their way to the small table in the corner.

Shinji caught a passing waitress and quickly gave her their orders, as Sabrina sat down. The Starring Rolls Café was moving at a crawl, its normal crowd being somewhat nocturnal. The afternoon sunlight, slanting down through the windows, cast the room into a study of light and shadow. The teenage girl blinked, being caught in a golden bar of light streaming out of the window.

The elderly woman across from her sat in the half-dark, perched genteelly on her chair as if in a Victorian tea-parlor. She looked as delicate and fragile as a bone china teacup.

Sabrina shook her thoughts off as Shinji came back, sitting down beside her._ Enough. We've got to get whatever information we can from her._

Abigail had placed a manila folder stuffed with paper on the table. At the elderly woman's nod of encouragement, Sabrina picked it up and began to pull the contents out, spreading them across the table. In front of her was an assortment of papers, photographs, and newspaper clippings. Shinji picked up a handful and began going through them. Abigail placed her cup on the table and took a deep breath, as if preparing herself to relive something horrifying…

She reached out for a front-page clipping of one of the local papers, the _Clarion_. The headline read, "Mystery Befalls Hollywood Tower Hotel." A byline wondered in block print, "Where did they disappear to?" Abigail stroked the text as she began to talk.

"My family and I lived at the Hotel. My father, Sam Gregory, worked in the film industry; living there helped his work, you see. That is...we lived there until I was 11..." her voice hushed. "Halloween, 1939 was my 11th birthday. It was also the last night we spent there. And I...well, I never felt much for celebrating my birthday after that horrible night."

"So…what happened?" Shinji breathed eagerly, leaning forward. Sabrina gave him a swift kick to the shin.

_Be careful! This is potentially dangerous, emotional territory we're treading on here. He shouldn't seem so eager._

Shinji scowled faintly at her as he rubbed his sore leg. Abigail, however, hadn't seemed to notice this little interlude as she fingered the front page. "The Hotel always threw wonderful parties. That Halloween, the owner set up a wonderful party. Like a masked ball, with live jazz; oh, and Anthony Fremont as the bandleader-goodness, I remember being quite infatuated with him as a young girl..." she chuckled softly as she reminisced. One of the front page photographs-of Sally Shine-caught her eye, and she blinked hard.

"Sally Shine also lived in the hotel," Abigail continued softly. "And the night of the party, she was coming home from a publicity trip. It…I…" she trailed off. She touched a wrinkled hand to her temple. "Please pardon me. It's hard to talk about this, and as the years go by, well…"

"It's all right, Abigail," Sabrina said encouragingly. "Just take your time and tell us whatever you can."

The older woman paused, composing herself. She picked up her cup and gently swirled around the contents, as if searching for some long-hidden truth in the dark liquid. "Sally," she said finally, her voice soft and far away, "was my sister, you see."

Both teenager sat, faintly stunned, in their chairs._ An eyewitness…who's a relative of one of the victims? Finally a chance! A chance to get information, at last!_ Sabrina licked her suddenly dry lips. "Can you tell us more about Sally? About what happened to Sally that night?" she asked softly, cautiously. She reached below the table for Shinji's hand, giving it a giddy squeeze.

Abigail sipped her coffee. "The two of us were separated by three years; I was the elder. Sally was a gentle and loving girl. Everybody loved Sally," she smiled fondly. "And everyone was looking forward to her homecoming that night. But," she sighed, placing the cup down, "she never made it to the party."

"The Halloween party?" Shinji drawled out, hinting for more information.

"Yes, the Halloween party being held that night at the Tip Top Club—the nightclub at the hotel's top floor." Abigail looked up at them from the table, her soft brown eyes suddenly very bright. "My memories of that night are not very clear, but I remember one part clearly. I shall never forget it…never. Sally and her nanny walking into that elevator, and the doors shutting on them. And the elevator stopping…and the lightning…" she trailed off, lips quivering. "It was so horrible…she just walked into that elevator…and she never came out."

Shinji looked at Sabrina. She looked sympathetic, but also vaguely disturbed. The lady was getting very emotional, and hadn't given them any useful information. Perhaps it was best to cut the conversation off right now…

Rising from his seat, the Japanese warlock smiled warmly at the older woman. "I can see this is a very sensitive subject. Perhaps we should stop...?"

Sabrina glanced at him, startled._ What is Shinji up to?_

"No! Please!" Abigail cried sharply. The detectives turned their full attention towards her.

"I have lived my whole life not knowing what happened to her. In a way, I feel responsible to find out what happened—I'm the last living person present at that party. You could call it survivor's guilt, in a way, but I need to put this to rest. Every Halloween, the stories resurface, and I try to remember, but **nothing comes**."

"But if you can't remember anything…" Shinji started again.

"Well, when the hotel workers went into the shaft to look for the occupants of the elevator, they found nothing. The elevator had stopped between floors, and the only way out was to climb out of the elevator and use the service ladder to go either up or down to another floor. But no trace was found of any of the missing occupants on any of the floors…or at the bottom of the elevator shaft."

Shinji sucked in his breath, turning to face Sabrina, whose eyes had gone wide. Maybe Abigail could still help, if she could give them details of what happened **after** that night.

"Now, what I think is that maybe…maybe something happened that night. Something traumatic, like a…a kidnapping…I don't know. And whatever happened that night—I saw it. I know that I have missing gaps in my memories of that night. I've talked to doctors and psychologists, and they've told me that it's simply trauma from the accident. That what I saw was perhaps too much for my mind to deal with, so it locked the painful memories away. But," Abigail proclaimed, eyes bright, "I've also heard that sometimes coming in contact with an item connected to the incident can help unlock the memories."

"So the papers," Sabrina gestured to the manila folder, "didn't help?" Abigail shook her head. The teenager bit her lip. "Then what you're asking me is…"

Abigail sucked in a deep breath. "I would like," she said softly, "to accompany you onto the grounds of the Hotel."

The Spirit Detectives blinked, looked at each other, and then turned to face the elderly woman. "Are you…uh…sure that this is a good idea?" Shinji asked cautiously.

"I'm convinced," Abigail began, looking at both of them intently, "that going to the Hotel may help restore my memory. Now, if what I've heard is true, the Hotel was abandoned right after the accident, so it should look the same."

"And something you see there may jog your memory," Sabrina slowly mused. "That's a great idea, really."

The older woman smiled modestly. "Well, I **have** had sixty years to think about it, you know."

"So, why have you not visited the hotel after the accident?" Shinji asked curiously, raising one blue eyebrow.

Abigail froze a little. "Well, I…my parents forbade me to set foot on the grounds," she finished, a little lamely. "They were convinced that the painful memories it might set off would…well, scar me mentally. A-and the grounds have been closed off for decades," she murmured.

Shinji still looked unconvinced.

Abigail sighed. "Well, I am a little scared. It's just so much—and I keep questioning myself, wondering if I'm ready. But I'm not getting any younger, and…well…"

"I understand," Sabrina assured her. "And Shinji does, too, **don't** you, Shinji?" she shot him a sharp look. Shinji, for his part, was musing in the chair.

"If that **is** the case," he said slowly, "is there anything that happens to you? Anything strange?"

Abigail paused, frowning slightly as she thought. "We-ell…yes. Visions—of Sally, not always in the Hotel. Voices that don't make sense. I told my parents, of course, when it first happened, but…well, they didn't take me very seriously," she smiled grimly.

Shinji pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"For as long as I can remember," Abigail continued, "I've had this need—this **obsession**, I suppose—to go to the Hotel. I was consumed by the thought of returning, but whether it was out of desire to find Sally or my need to fill in that missing gap in my memory—I can't say."

Sabrina turned to her partner. "Do you have any ideas, Shinji?" she asked in a low voice.

"Possibly. I will need some time to think about it more, though."

"If it helps at all," Abigail said suddenly, "I could give you this."

The two teens leaned forward. Abigail reached into her purse and removed a small object, which she held out to them. Cautiously, Sabrina retrieved it from the older woman's outstretched hand, holding it in the palm of her own. Curious, she and Shinji stared at it.

In the palm of Sabrina's hand was a small, rather rusted, metal key.

"I don't know what it opens," Abigail offered, "but I've had it for as long as I can remember. I think it could possibly open something in the Hotel."

Sabrina lifted an eyebrow as she looked at Shinji out of the corner of her eye. "**Now** do you think she's useful?" she asked archly under her breath.

"Possibly."

* * *

"So, we're letting her in on the investigation," Shinji mumbled as the two left the restaurant.

"Not exactly," Sabrina sighed. "We're going in and investigating. As soon as we determine that the area is stable, we'll bring her in to look around. An hour or two, no harm done. And besides," she continued, folding her arms, "I like Abigail. She's a very kind, thoughtful old woman, and I want to help her out. Imagine—living all those years, not knowing what happened to someone you knew."

Shinji was silent for a moment. "I know," he said softly. "I just have this…this feeling."

"Like what?"

Shinji's brow was furrowed as he stared intently at the sidewalk. "I don't know. But I have this strange feeling about the Hotel…something…evil."

"**Evil**?" Sabrina's eyes widened. "Tell me you're joking."

Shinji tilted his head skyward, focusing on something in the distance. "I don't know. I wish I was."

Turning her head to see what he was looking at, Sabrina caught sight of it. Looming above the skyline in a stark black line, rose the Hollywood Tower Hotel.

* * *

Turning the doorknob, Sabrina stepped wearily into her hotel room. She was tired, hungry, and a little frustrated at that afternoon's failed information-gathering session._ So we're back where we started, knowing nothing more than before._ The small item in her pocket rubbed against her leg. Sabrina drew the key out of her pocket and looked at it. "Okay, not necessarily back at the beginning," she corrected herself out loud.

"At the beginning of what?"

Sabrina looked over at Salem, who was curled up next to her laptop. The cat's tail undulated slowly as he watched her with narrowed amber eyes.

"We made a bit of progress today," Sabrina began. "Just a little bit, mind you."

"Hrmph," Salem snorted. "Well, we made a lot more than that, actually—or should I say, **I**."

"What?" Sabrina blinked, confused.

"Tell me how good I am," Salem puffed himself up.

"Salem, tell me what's going on," Sabrina demanded. "You're not making any sense."

A slow grin lazily stretched over the Burmese cat's face. "I found that guy you were looking for—the bellhop's grandson."

* * *

The Starring Rolls Cafe is another MGM Studios eatery. Again, it's counter service, not full-service.

A note or two about Abigail, because this might confuse people who have seen the movie... Yes, the movie chooses to reveal that Abigail and Sally are sisters much later in the plot, almost near the end. There will be twists and turns, so don't worry! Also, the movie never really talks about Abigail and Sally's parents. I took a few liberties with those, so any characterizations can be strictly tossed in the "non-canon" category.

Next chapter: Thanks to Salem, the Spirit Detectives have a new lead, and a chance to finally tour the Hollywood Tower Hotel. What secrets will they uncover as they explore the old building?


	9. Come Wander With Me

"Wow."

"That's all you can say?"

"…Yes."

Sabrina sighed, adjusting the strap of her satchel. "Well, it **is** impressive, certainly." Her gaze shifted from the yellowed newspaper in her hand to the massive building in front of her._ Eerily impressive…_

The Hollywood Tower Hotel was a monolith of faded rose-shaded stucco and brick. While not wholly unpleasing to the eye, it had the imposing nature of a mountain, looming above a lush emerald-green garden. In fact, its solid appearance and bright color might almost have given Sabrina a comforting feeling; a sense of security.

That is, of course, had not a deep gray stain blemished the front like a spreading plague. The stain on the brick had roughly the effect of a vivid burn mark on a pleasant face.

"Those are the scorch marks from the lightning," Shinji murmured. "Right on the elevator shaft."

Sabrina wasn't paying attention; her focus was directed towards the massive gates barring their entrance. Marked with the "HTH" logo, they appeared to be old, but not rusted. And though a laminated placard hung on one side warning trespassers away, there was no chain fastening the gates together.

"It looks like we're expected," Sabrina quipped, as she gestured to the gates. "They're unlocked. I guess our Mr. Todd got here ahead of us." Shrugging, she swung open one of the gates.

Pausing for a moment, she looked over her shoulder. Shinji was standing on the other side, a faint frown creasing his brow as he stared at the hotel with apprehension.

"Are . . . you okay?" Sabrina asked hesitantly, stepping towards him.

Shinji bit his lip lightly, studying the jutting, bulky façade of the hotel. "I still…have a bad feeling about this," he said lowly. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, switching his gaze to her. "It…the aura of this place…"

Sabrina swallowed nervously. She hadn't had reason to bring up her sixth sense before, and now she wondered if it was a trait common to more witches than she thought. The aura of the Hotel was strange—quite dissimilar to Gracey Manor. The Gothic mansion had been overtly sinister, the aura (courtesy of the psychotic warlock inhabiting it) smelling of cold, rank death.

Here? It was an elusive feeling that slipped across her senses—a feeling that **something** was wrong, but what exactly it was, she couldn't say. And for Shinji to sense it…what **were** his strengths, again? She'd never asked. He could very well be psychically gifted, like her.

"Well, I suppose we should go in," Shinji shrugged, slipping through the gate. He paused, beckoning to Sabrina. "Are you coming?" He grinned, at the reversal of the situation.

Sabrina nodded and followed. They stepped through the elegant wrought-iron gate and into a verdant, overgrown garden. The pathway was walled, and presumably wound its way up to the Hotel proper. Enormous live oaks and palm trees blended together, creating a canopy of green that filtered the rays of the midday sun.

Broad-leaved elephant ear and bird of paradise plants stretched towards whatever light they could reach. Dainty ferns curled over sunken pottery, and common, spiky grass attempted to assert itself everywhere.

"It must have been so beautiful, once," Sabrina murmured, running her fingers lightly along the low wall. "But it's all wild, now. What a pity."

"Wouldn't Mr. Todd make sure the garden was cared for?" Shinji asked, pausing to examine a signpost. The grounds apparently boasted a bowling green (Sabrina raised an eyebrow over that one), a 'grand terrace', and a natatorium, which she remembered was a fancy, Latin-based word for swimming pool._ Huh. Guess taking a year of Latin paid off, huh?_

"You would think," Sabrina agreed. "I'm guessing we want to head for the terrace. The path looks like it heads to the hotel."

The two walked on in silence for some time. The air here was so still, and hung heavy over her. It seemed—yes, it really did seem—as if the Hotel itself were holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. Sabrina unconsciously clenched her fists as she mulled over possibilities of what could be waiting inside the building. Well, she had experience with vengeful spirits and demons, so she would be fine._ But what about Shinji?_ Sabrina wondered again.

_Well, I guess we'll cross that bridge when we get there. And besides, saving a guy in distress might be fun…_

The terrace loomed closer; a massive stone porch held up by massive pillars, with terracotta floor tiles. "I don't see anyone," Sabrina noted, worried.

"Relax," Shinji smiled. "Maybe the caretaker is inside, or on the lawn. Don't worry." He squeezed her shoulder, giving her a warm smile. Sabrina dropped her hands, smiling back.

The terrace's main area consisted of several empty stone flower beds flanked by heavy stone columns. Sabrina gasped in appreciation at the jewel-bright hibiscus blooms winding up and down the columns, and across the trellis set in the roof.

"Here," Shinji said suddenly, reaching upwards to pluck a scarlet bloom. He tucked it behind her ear, stepping back to admire the effect. The red hibiscus clashed with her pale pink tank top and purple skirt, but still suited her, in an odd way.

Sabrina gave him a soft smile. "How does it look?" she asked shyly.

"Very pretty."

They looked at each other for a moment, feeling their faces start to grow warm._ I'm really starting to like her,_ Shinji thought._ She's more than just a pretty face; she's got a great sense of humor and she's so easy to talk to. I can't believe how much I'm enjoying every minute I spend with her..._

_He's sweet,_ Sabrina decided._ And he's always looking out for me. I'm really glad that Drell made us partners. I wonder...I wonder if anything else can come from this? I know that __**I'm**__ hoping it will...heh. Well, I guess we have to save romantic overtures for later. We have to finish this first...stupid mission..._Sabrina opened her mouth, about to suggest that they move on…

"Excuse me?"

Sabrina shrieked, and leaped back a foot, arm coming up in preparation to fling a blast of magical energy. Shinji had done an about-face, his hands flying to his belt, as if reaching for something.

The speaker stood in front of them, his hands outstretched reassuringly. He was of medium height, and rather heavy, with a bit of a paunch. He seemed slightly out of place in a loud Hawaiian shirt, khaki shorts, and sandals.

"Wait, wait," he said, waving his arms in a 'don't hit me' gesture, "whoa there. Sorry to scare you."

"That's okay," Sabrina said, nearly laughing in relief. She dropped her hands, eying the man closer. He appeared to be in his forties, with a bald patch forming in the middle of his wispy, frizzy brown hair, and sporting a short beard. His round, fleshy face was good-humored, with laugh lines beginning to form around his twinkling, dark eyes.

"Are you Christopher Q. Todd?" Shinji asked slowly, sizing him up.

"Call me Chris," he beamed, extending his hand. Shinji blinked for a moment, and Sabrina stepped forward to shake Chris' hand. Seeming to not notice Shinji's hesitation, Chris continued. "You need anything, let me know, and I'll get it for you."

"Thanks," Sabrina told him. "Oh, I'm Sabrina Spellman, and my partner here is…"

"Shinji Yamagi," the Japanese warlock cut in. "A pleasure to meet you."

"Same here," Chris replied.

Well, thanks for meeting us here," Sabrina told him. "I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"No problemo, chief," the older man waved it off. Sabrina paused a second, blinking at the nickname. "October's my busy season; come Halloween, everybody wants to hear about Sally Shine. It, uh…helps the cash flow." He paused meaningfully.

_Salem, just **what** did you tell him?_

Thankfully, Shinji reached for his wallet, where Drell had given them money for expenses. "So, what do you do, Chris?" he asked, stumbling over the name slightly. "Since your family built this place, are you the…eh…guardian?"

Sabrina looked at him oddly. Shinji shrugged. "I don't know the word in English."

"I'm the caretaker," Chris explained. "It's a family thing, I guess: Great-grand-daddy built this place; Grandpa was a bellhop; and I look after it all. I'm a legacy…with expenses," he added, taking the folded bill from Shinji's hand. He started off down the terrace's hallway, beckoning them to follow him.

"Mostly, I'm a car mechanic," Chris continued as they walked down the veranda. They passed row after row of stone benches and pottery, all beginning to be overgrown with weeds and wild hibiscus. "Being caretaker isn't that big of a deal; I just pay taxes and hire maintenance workers to keep the place from falling down."

The soft, ghostly sound of laughter echoed throughout the grounds. Sabrina stiffened, stopping. It sounded too much—too, too much—like young Emily's happy laughter drifting through the halls of Gracey Manor.

"Sabrina." Shinji said quietly, catching her by the hand. "Are you okay?"

Dazed, she stared at him for a moment. Just as suddenly she'd stopped, she shook herself awake. "I'm fine," she laughed nervously. "Just…listening to the wind in the trees."

He touched her cheek, looking at her with concern. "Are you sure?" he repeated, looking her in the eye.

"Yes," Sabrina insisted. "Thanks for worrying, though," she added in a softer tone than before. Shinji didn't look as if he quite believed her, but smiled, and began walking again. Sabrina followed, mentally berating herself for the momentary loss of control.

_He was really concerned about me…he's so kind._

Not seeming to have noticed—or cared about, perhaps—Sabrina's momentary odd behavior, Chris continued talking. "Anyway, there's really not much to **do** anyway, ya know. Great-Granddad was so freaked out about what happened to Grandpa Dewey, that he had the whole place shut down. It's even mentioned in his will. Nobody can do anything with the place until somebody figures out what happened to Grandpa Dewey."

"So…what _did_ happen?" Sabrina asked cautiously.

Chris shrugged lazily. "No clue, chief. But I'm the last living relative; so if the mystery gets solved, I inherit the works. Cha-ching!" he snapped his fingers sharply.

They'd stopped at the hotel's entrance, in front of a set of double doors, decorated with tarnished brass flourishes. The first-floor windows were in good condition, but so coated with dust that Sabrina could barely see inside._ And everything inside the Hotel's gonna be in the same condition, huh? Terrific._

"And everything has been closed up for sixty years," Shinji said in an apprehensive tone, sounding about as thrilled as Sabrina felt.

"Yup. Spooky, huh?" Chris added, raising an eyebrow. He fiddled around in his pocket, finally withdrawing a set of keys on a dirty yellow lanyard. He selected one, sticking it into the door, and forcefully turning it. The lock opened with an audible click, and Chris pushed the doors open.

The doors slowly groaned as they swung partially open, shedding a few rays of bright California sunshine into the dark, dusty interior. Dust particles wafted out the doorway, causing Sabrina to sneeze a few times.

"Well, there ya go," Chris beckoned towards the interior. "I'll be out front working if you need me."

"You're not coming in with us?" Shinji asked, lifting one thin blue eyebrow.

"No way, man. You're the ones here to write a story, not me. This place is haunted."

Sighing, Sabrina stepped forward into the lobby, dust faintly wafting through the air as she did so. She was greeted by cool, stale air that smelled very faintly like mothballs. There were no lights on anywhere inside the building; the faint light that did filter in came through the dusty windows. Footsteps behind her announced that Shinji had stepped inside, accompanied by a slow creaking of shutting doors.

The Japanese warlock gave a low whistle. "_Sugoi_…" he murmured in a hushed, nearly reverent tone.

The lobby of the hotel was crafted out of tan-colored rock, with a high, vaulted ceiling, and pillars supporting wide arches. The floor was composed of smooth, polished octagonal terra cotta tiles; dust had settled liberally in the cracks between them, giving the floor a web-like appearance.

Directly across from the entrance sat a grand, ornately carved fireplace. Sabrina's eyes roved from the tapestry hanging above it (emblazoned with the hotel's monogram, of course) to the large circular stone planter set in the middle of the lobby floor. It might have been a tasteful decoration at one point, but it was filled with dried, long-dead flowers, and topped with an eerily alive-looking stuffed owl.

Everywhere, Sabrina could see tasteful, rich furnishings: oriental carpets, table lamps inset with mosaic tiles, stained-glass lampshades, rosewood and mahogany end tables. Love and attention had been lavished on this place, resulting in a rich and beautiful atmosphere.

And the whole thing had been ruined by sixty years' worth of dust and decay.

_And a supernatural murder mystery doesn't help much, either._

Sabrina absentmindedly reached for her ponytail, and began chewing on the end. "Where do we even start?" she murmured.

Shinji frowned, scanning the room for a likely prospect. His eyes landed on the dusty, cobweb covered reception desk. "There," he decided, nodding towards it. "I'll look around there."

"And I'll…look around for anything that might pertain to the victims," Sabrina decided. "I don't want to get in your way." Reaching into her black shoulder bag, Sabrina withdrew the manila case file, and two flashlights. She handed one to Shinji. "Remember; if we get separated…"

"Call your phone." Shinji flicked his flashlight on and nodded. "I'll be careful."

Sighing, Sabrina turned to face the fireplace, opening the case file. On top of the other papers was a floor plan of the hotel. "Let's see what we've got," she mumbled. "The lobby level has a library, a lounge, and a billiards room…" She shuddered, recollecting the last billiards room she'd been in.

_Let's hope that I don't get miniaturized this time. It'd kind of be embarrassing to explain to Shinji…_

She snuck a peek over her shoulder. Shinji was rapidly checking the contents of the mail slots behind the desk. He looked rather bored, but stayed focused on his work.

_Maybe I'll stay in the lobby for now…_

Shrugging, Sabrina began to slowly meander around the lobby, examining anything in her path. She looked under furniture, lifted up cushions, poked around a dusty tea tray, and pondered a pile of luggage. _There has to be __**something**__ here…shouldn't there?_

* * *

Shinji pursed his lips as he examined the guest register in front of him. He'd scanned through the entries for that day, hoping to find something of interest. Needless to say, he had no idea what he was doing, so he'd decided to quickly but methodically look through everything he could. _This is odd,_ he thought._ I found three of the guests, but not the fourth of them. Claire Poulet isn't listed anywhere on here…_

He traced his name down the list again. _Allen Barrett…Michael Philip Miter…John Rolfe Eggbert IV…Carolyn Crosset…V. Kay Kitterman…Nothing. Not even someone with the initials "C.P." And yet she was positively identified as being one of the victims. So, why wasn't she listed?_

He leaned against the counter, head in his hands._ This is causing more questions than answers._

* * *

Sighing, Sabrina half-heartedly examined a dust-coated end table, noting the half-smoked cigar, empty wineglass, and filthy ashtray. She traced the rim of the wineglass absent-mindedly, noting the faint cobwebs clinging to the glass. While looking around was fun, she hadn't discovered anything productive.

_It's odd, though,_ Sabrina mused._ The lobby looks like everyone's just left it temporarily—well, except for the layer of dust. It must have been abandoned quickly._

She wandered toward the fireplace, briefly eying a set of alligator suitcases. The detective plopped down onto a sofa, belatedly remembering the thick layer of dust covering it. Said dust wafted upward, tickling her nose. She sneezed a few times, batting at it with her hands, but made no movements to get up._ Okay, Sabrina, think. If the lobby was abandoned—most likely right after the disappearance was discovered—then that means that there has to be __**something**__ lying around here belonging to one of the victims…and possibly whoever caused the accident. Well, assuming that a person did, in fact, __**cause**__ the accident. …this is getting very complicated._

She groaned, putting her head into her hands. Her fledgling sixth sense had taken a leave of absence in the short time since the Gracey Manor case was closed. While she probably could have tried to trace whatever residual aura was left in the building, right now she was helpless.

_Might as well say it. **Useless**._

"How are you doing?" a voice asked quietly.

Sighing, she closed her eyes. "Badly," she answered Shinji without looking up. "This is pointless, Shinji. We've spent almost an hour searching this room, and we've ended up with nothing. There are no clues. No leads. Nothing. I…I just give up."

Shinji was silent.

"Well, I don't," he said quietly.

Sabrina looked up at him. The strength in his voice was unusual; it seemed to have come from a different person. But it was still Shinji standing there, looking at her, dark eyes solemn and determined.

"I've started this, and I intend to finish it. Besides, I believe there may be some small clue out there—something that can help us. I don't believe it's as hopeless as you say."

She sat there still, watching.

"I am not giving up hope," he continued. "I'm going to keep searching until I solve this case. What will you do?"

Sabrina sat on the dusty couch, thinking. She remembered a feisty girl determinedly exploring a haunted mansion. It was dark, and dangerous, with monsters and spirits attempting to slaughter her at every turn. She had been thrust into an extraordinary situation with a slim chance of succeeding in her mission. And that girl had persevered. She had determinedly pursued her goal and won. She had not given up.

_Look at me. How could I have lost my faith so easily? My psychic powers may be gone for now. There may be no easy way to discover what really happened here. But at least, I can do my best with what I have._

Sabrina raised her chin obstinately. "I'm not giving up hope, either."

Shinji's face broke into a broad smile. "Good."

* * *

"Ahhhhhh!" Shinji leaned back in the booth, stretching both arms over his head. "What a day!"

"Tell me about it," Sabrina sighed, taking another sip of her soda. Shortly after Shinji had discouraged her from giving up, the two had continued to search the first floor. Splitting up to cover more ground, they had checked the billiards room, the lounge, and a small, dusty, book-crammed library full of knickknacks. Privately, Sabrina thought it resembled the library shown in the video Drell had given her.

They had found nothing, but Shinji optimistically pointed out that tomorrow, they could search through the guests' luggage and rooms for clues. Therefore, they had decided to adjourn for the day, and get dinner at Rosie's. While they waited for the waitress to bring their food, Sabrina had spread the blueprints over her side of the table, studying the layout of the hotel, and lightly marking off which rooms had been checked.

Pencil hovering over the paper, she frowned. "Shinji…"

"Yes?" he looked up from his drink.

"We missed something."

Frowning, Shinji leaned over the table to see where she was gesturing. "What do you mean?"

"I can't believe I didn't look through all the floor plans beforehand… Well, as it turns out, there's a sublevel we missed. It seems that there's a pretty large basement, boiler room, storage rooms, and so on."

Shinji groaned. "Well, we'll have to look at it tomorrow."

"It'll be interesting," Sabrina replied grimly, putting the papers away.

* * *

Chris Todd is given the nickname "Q" (short for quartermaster) in the movie.

"_Sugoi"_ roughly means "Wow!" or "Amazing!" Shinji sometimes lapses into Japanese when startled or shocked.

If you get to look at the guest registry at the Tower of Terror, they have all kinds of fake names. I just picked some of the choice examples of wackiness.

Next chapter: It's another day, and the Spirit Detectives have another chance to further investigate the hotel. Shinji makes a strange discovery in the basement, while Sabrina finds that not everything is all right on the upper floors…


	10. Shadow Play

"Back again?"

"Er…yeah." Shinji rubbed the back of head in a gesture of embarrassment. "Is it okay?"

Chris lazily waved a hand. "Relax, dude. It's fine. Besides, I like having company," he grinned.

In a complete contrast to the previous day, Wednesday morning had dawned stale and gray. The air was quiet and still, as if preparing for a storm. The Hotel, Shinji decided, looked even more imposing set against this dreary backdrop.

He and Sabrina had returned to the Hotel, hoping to begin their investigation of the sub-levels. And with any luck, the two of them would stumble upon some sort of clue. At least, Shinji **hoped** that was what would happen. If not, it would only lead to a gigantic headache at the end…and a rather unhappy Drell.

Shinji winced at the thought of what punishment the Head of the Witches' Council might dig up. _We'd better start looking now…isn't she done yet? _He sighed impatiently, leaning against the body of the car that Chris was attempting to coax into life. Sabrina had told him to go on ahead, while she attempted to find a better hiding place for Salem that wouldn't lead to his discovery by the hotel maid.

He aimlessly traced a pattern in the dust with his foot, waiting.

"Man!" groaned Chris, thumping his hand against the car, "I can't even get a spark!" He eyed the petulant vehicle with a mixture of annoyance and frustration.

"Why don't you try connecting the battery?" Sabrina's voice floated to them from the front gate. She slipped between the gates carefully, making sure not to catch the hem of her light jacket as they closed. The blonde offered them a smile as she walked closer, shifting the weight of the backpack she carried.

Chris blinked, as if the idea had never occurred to him before. Snapping his fingers, he slowly nodded at her. "You are **good**, chief. **Very** good."

Sabrina chuckled at that, before noticing Shinji's impatient body language. "Sorry I made you wait," she apologized.

He shook his head as she finally reached the two men, setting down her backpack. "Don't worry about it." _Even though I'm afraid of upsetting Drell…this hotel unnerves me even more than he does…_

Sabrina began pulling supplies out of the backpack—flashlights, a map, and a set of walkie-talkies. "So," she began casually, while unloading, "what do these ghosts look like, Chris?"

The older man shrugged as he reached for his toolbox, and pulled out a bag of shelled walnuts. "Dunno. Never saw one." He tore open the bag and began crunching a few of them.

Shinji frowned, tilting his head back slightly. "But you said that the hotel was haunted."

Chris nodded energetically. "It is," he assured the teens, around a mouthful. "I've never been inside."

Sabrina nearly dropped the flashlight she was holding. "You've never…been inside," she repeated, disbelief evident._ So wait a minute…then how can he assure us that anything we've heard about the hotel's interior—about the ghosts—is true?_

The mechanic shook his head, seemingly frightened by the notion. "No way, man. It's **haunted**."

Sabrina sighed in frustration, unsure whether she wanted to beat herself in the head with the flashlight, or the frustrating mechanic who was supposed to be their guide. She handed over a flashlight and walkie-talkie to her partner. "C'mon, Shinji, we should go already."

Still munching on a handful of walnuts, Chris waved at their retreating backs. "Call me if you need anything, chief!"

Rolling her eyes, Sabrina unlocked the door with the key Chris had loaned her earlier, pretending that she didn't hear a sizzle and startled yelp as the mechanic attempted to (and most likely botched) reconnect the battery. Shinji merely shrugged.

* * *

"Should we split up?" Sabrina offered once they were inside, handing her partner a flashlight. Unlike the previous day, the still and cloudy sky did not offer even partial illumination in the lobby and foyer. The air hung thick with the smell of dust and decay, and the girl wrinkled her nose.

Shinji considered this for a moment, and nodded. "That's a good idea. We can cover more ground." He switched his flashlight on, sweeping it across the room. The beam caught on the glass eyes of the stuffed owl set on top of the planter. The illumination gave it a cold, predatory glare, and Sabrina shivered in spite of herself.

"Cold?" Shinji moved as if to remove his own blazer to hand to her.

The teenage witch shook her hand. "No. It's not the temperature, it's…" she struggled to name the source of her apprehension. "…the building," she finished, somewhat lamely. "But thank you anyway," she quickly added.

Shinji nodded, the faint glimpse of apprehension that he'd caught in her eyes enough to convince him. He paused for a moment. "Are you sure you want to split up?" he asked quietly. "Would you feel more comfortable if we went together?"

Sabrina shook her head. "No. I'll be fine. Thank you for offering, though." _I just need to get a grip on myself. I have to stop being so frightened. I am perfectly capable of handling whatever may or may not be in here._

Her partner nodded, before pulling out the hotel's floor plans from his blazer pocket. "I'll search the basement and boiler room," he informed her.

"Good. And I'll search the luggage here and hopefully get to look in some of the rooms." Shinji nodded, before turning to head towards the back of the hotel. Sighing, Sabrina eyed the mountain of dusty luggage before her, unsure of where to start.

"Oh…Sabrina?"

She turned from the luggage cart to see Shinji, pausing with his hand on the doorway. "If there's trouble…or you don't want to be alone…call me, okay?"

Smiling, she nodded.

* * *

The flashlight flickered across the hallways of the basement sublevel. The soft light revealed nothing of interest—only dull gray walls, concrete floors, and assorted boxes and wheeled carts strewn about. Shinji had been searching here for nearly half an hour, and as of yet, had found nothing.

The Hotel's sublevels were dead quiet and dark; the only sounds Shinji could hear were his own breathing, and the soft fall of his footsteps against the dusty floor.

There was nothing of real interest or value—a laundry room, various storage rooms for food, linens, and other supplies—but he kept searching. There had to be something here, some clue that could help explain this mystery. And the darkest, most eerie place in the entire building was just as well the most likely.

Shinji bit his lip, slowly waving the flashlight's beam across the hallway as he walked._ Now, if only I could just find something…_ The light caught on a set of double doors, marked in large white letters, "**Hotel Staff ONLY**." Shrugging, the Japanese warlock stepped forward to push the doors open.

He found himself in a medium-sized room that seemed to serve as both a storage area and a carpenter's workshop. This room had been used by the maintenance crew when the hotel was still running, Shinji guessed as he scanned the room's contents with the flashlight. Nothing very interesting. Tools, shelves crammed with boxes and cans of paint, something white…

Stopping, Shinji turned the flashlight back to the white object. It was a tattered, moth-eaten curtain, hanging at the back of the room. His curiosity piqued, he stepped closer. "What's back there?" Shinji murmured, slowly reaching out his hand. And in one swift movement, he yanked the curtain away.

The room that was now revealed to his eyes was small, lined with shelves, and was crammed with boxes. One long table filled the middle of the room. But this room, it appeared, had seen much use.

If he had to guess, it seemed that this room had been used as a sort of hideaway—like a child's secret playing spot. A small niche had been formed between two metal filing cabinets; draped with moth-eaten, faded blankets, and lumpy cushions, it would have been a cozy spot (once upon a time, though) for a child to sit and read. Some of the lower shelves of the metal shelving units had been cleared of their boxes and mechanical apparatus. In their place were "treasures," much like a child would collect: some pretty rocks, a faded hair ribbon, a scrap of lace, a dried flower in a handkerchief…

Shinji scanned the corner of the room with the flashlight again, stopping it when it illuminated a small carved chest and a stack of books. Curious, he inched towards them. _Maybe there will be something useful in here…_

Carefully squatting in front of the pile, Shinji cautiously wiped a layer of dust off the top of the stack of books. "What is this?" he murmured softly. "_Weird_…_Tales_?" It was not a book on the top of the stack, but a magazine. Glancing behind the stack of books, he noticed a smaller stack, presumably of magazines, as well. Carefully, he reached over to wipe the dust of this stack as well. "More _Weird Tales_," he murmured to himself, "_United_ _Am_…amat…hmm, don't know this word. The dates on all of these vary, though. Some are as old as 1916…"

The Japanese warlock then turned his attention to the stack of books. These were all equally as old as the magazine stack, and the majority of the books were written by an "H.P. Lovecraft," whom he had never heard of before. There were a few written by Edgar Allen Poe, who he did remember from his World Literature class. The other authors he had never heard of.

There was one book in the stack that did not seem to fit with the rest, though. It was a handsome, slim, leather-bound volume, with one line of faded gilt lettering on the front._ Maybe it's a journal or diary of some sorts…could this be it? A clue?_ Eagerly, he fumbled with the flashlight, trying to lift it up to provide better light, while opening the book with one hand.

The first page was blank, but for two sentences running slightly slanted across the page. The handwriting was done in faded blue ink, its clumsy scrawl proclaiming it to be that of a child's.

"_That is not dead which can eternal lie…and with strange aeons, even death may die…_" Shinji slowly read out loud. He frowned. "_Death may die_? What is **that** supposed to mean? This is such a headache," he groaned. He flipped through the book quickly, noting that they were filled with the same crooked, cramped writing.

"I don't have the time to sit here and read this all…I might as well take it along for Sabrina to look at," he decided, snapping the book shut. "With any luck, it may have a clue." Wrinkling his nose at the dust-smeared cover, he used the corner of one of the blankets to wipe it clean before sticking the book under his arm. Slowly rising out of his uncomfortable squatting position, he trained the flashlight on the other object inhabiting the corner…the trunk.

It was rather inconspicuous amongst the rest of the junk in the room: two feet long and of a dark green. He guessed the covering was made of leather. Carefully, Shinji put the flashlight down and attempted to raise the lid. No good. The trunk had been locked.

"And no key in sight," Shinji muttered to himself. "This day just keeps getting better and better."

* * *

Sabrina blew a stray wisp of hair out of her face, concentrating on picking the lock of the suitcase in front of her._ Who would have thought that Salem could actually teach me something useful, for once?_ The teenage witch thought wryly, as she heard a satisfying click, and pulled the lock open.

She had been spending the better part of—was it an hour or two that had passed?—in the lobby, at the abandoned luggage trolley, systematically picking the locks of each and every suitcase, valise, briefcase, and trunk. There had to be something here, she reasoned, that belonged to one of the victims. And if not, then she could always go through the register, collect the keys to their rooms, and snoop around in there.

It was a lot of work, but there had to be some benefit to it, Sabrina thought. After all, by leaving no stone unturned, there was bound to be even the smallest scrap of information.

_Although if that ESP of mine was working, we could be done in no time,_ she thought sourly. The teenage witch was simultaneously sifting through the contents of decades-old suitcases and pondering the disappearance of the strange powers she had gained in her previous case.

_Aunt Zelda said that it wasn't unheard of for some witches to develop psychic powers…but those are the prodigies that become superstars in the Other Realm's academia and government. The development of psychic powers is charted in people with amazing magical skills…and mine have been charted as average at best. So what **was** all that? Some sort of fluke? No one's ever heard of randomly developing and losing psychic powers._

_Although the better question,_ she slowly mused, reaching up to tuck the errant wisp of hair behind her ear,_ is probably "What prompted those powers in the first place?" It couldn't be exposure to magic—if so, then every witch alive would have them. It had to have been some sort of change… Was it exposure to Thorne's dark magic? Maybe…but I can't see dark magic having any sort of "positive" affect on the portion of the brain that controls psychic powers. It has to be something else. But what?_

Sighing, Sabrina focusing her attention on the trunk she was currently rummaging through. "Carolyn Crosset," she read off of the luggage tag. "Maybe you have some clue hiding in here, eh?" she feebly joked, opening the lock. Hefting the lid open, Sabrina quickly rummaged through the contents, poking through glossy cocktail gowns and brightly patterned sundresses. Her fingers hit upon a small red oblong case, which the teenage girl pulled out.

"What could be in here?" she mumbled. "Makeup, maybe?" It turned out, in fact, to be a small jewelry case. Sabrina emptied the contents on her lap and admiringly held each piece up to the light to admire it. A pearl necklace…lots of gold earrings…a really lovely sapphire pendant…a gold locket… "I wonder if it still opens," she murmured aloud, holding the locket in her left hand while scooping the rest of the jewelry back into the case with her right. Carefully, Sabrina managed to pry open the locket and look at the contents.

She held the flashlight up to the locket to better see the picture inside. She nearly dropped it once she saw the picture inside. "It…it couldn't be," the Spirit Detective frowned. "That's…it's…"

Quickly standing up, she strode to the lobby desk and shoved the register book to the side to make room for her backpack. Unceremoniously dropping it to the counter, she dug out the manila case file, flipping through the contents. At last, she found what she was looking for. Sabrina pulled out the snapshots of the accident victims, and selected Claire Poulet's. The dead woman's face was an exact match with the one inside the locket.

"But why would Claire Poulet's photograph be in Carolyn Crosset's locket? What's the connection between the two?" she puzzled out loud.

Behind her, she heard a suddenly faint noise—like something small dropping onto a metal surface. Sabrina straightened up, clutching the locket. "Shinji, is that you?" she called. He probably was making his way up from the lower floors after investigating. She turned around, calling, "You'll never believe what I fou…" She trailed away, eyes riveted on the hotel directory a few feet away.

It was a commonplace fabric message board, the names and locations of the various rooms of the hotel marked out in white plastic letters that clipped into the fabric. The teenage witch watched, mesmerized, as various small plastic letters began falling out of their places. And to her horror, she watched as they slowly spelled out a message on the bottom of the directory board.

All of a sudden, the inkling of fear and uneasiness that had niggled at the edges of her mind before began creeping back with a vengeance. Sabrina's hand convulsively clenched around the locket as she watched the white plastic letters begin to spell, "EVIL TOWER U R DOOMED."

Struggling desperately to keep her composure, not give in to the overwhelming sense of panic that threatened to engulf her, Sabrina stepped backwards._ The door! I can get out through the door! Where is it?_ Her fingers fumbled at the wall behind her, groping in vain for the doorframe she believed to be there.

"I-i-it's okay! Don't worry!" she blurted, stammering frantically in an attempt to appease whatever force was heading towards her. "I-I'm here to h-help you!"

The air seemed to ripple, the form of a man taking shape. The man—was it really?—stepped forward, seemingly materializing from the dusty air of the hotel itself. He stopped a few feet in front of Sabrina, his tall, tuxedo-clad frame looming over her. The man's gaze landed condescendingly on her, the faintest hint of a smirk upturning his lips. "If anyone needs help, my dear girl," he informed her coldly, his British accent dripping sarcasm, "it's you."

Her mouth worked, trying to scream, trying to plead, trying to cast a spell. The words stuck to her throat, dry and formless. The same kind of energy present in Gracey Manor. _Ghosts._

Gasping, Sabrina turned to her right, ready to bolt to the nearest door, which must have been a few feet away. Instead, she was greeted by the rapidly materializing form of another figure; this time, a smaller, bespectacled man dressed as a bellhop. His glasses glinted sharply as he shot her a menacing smile.

"Checking…_in_?" He sharply tightened the noose he was carrying in his hands.

* * *

I love cliffhangers.

Ah, H.P. Lovecraft. I couldn't resist throwing him in…and he (or his works, more accurately), will have a small role to play later on…

The message board actually **does** look like that on the ride. Unfortunately, the letters don't fall off to spell out the message as you watch.

Next chapter: Who are the mysterious ghosts, and what is it that they want? Furthermore, what is the connection between the once-lively Hollywood Tower Hotel and the mysterious Twilight Zone? Sabrina and Shinji continue to search for answers…


	11. The Elevator

Fighting back a scream of terror, Sabrina turned on her heels to flee in the opposite direction, away from the two male ghosts threatening her. Yet no sooner had she turned around, then stopped.

A third form was coalescing, more quickly than the others. The figure this time was female, older than the other two. Clad in sturdy tweeds, the ghostly woman was not outwardly threatening…save for her expression. She glared at Sabrina through horn-rimmed glasses, her face a mask of what appeared to be annoyance and frustration.

She shook her head. "You've been a bad girl," she drawled slowly. Sabrina, gulping, noticed the large, black, pointy-tipped umbrella that she swung up to tap in her other hand. "A **very** bad girl." The woman began chuckling low in her throat, rather darkly.

Sabrina could feel a cold sweat breaking out. It felt like something was lapping at the edge of her consciousness, like a cold fire. _I have to get out of here…but how?_

Trying to keep herself as collected as possible, she edged backward towards the wall, her fingers groping behind her for a door handle, a weapon—**anything**. Suddenly, her fingers hit upon a button. _The elevator! Maybe I can slip in there! _Pushing the call button as quickly as she could, the teenage witch stepped backward—

She let out a scream as she nearly stepped off backwards into the empty elevator shaft. Her hands grabbed onto either side of the doorway, attempting to push herself back into the lobby and away from the shaft. Trying to propel herself forward, Sabrina gasped, "I just want to help you!"

The ghostly woman's expression faded from dark amusement to cynicism. "Away with you, girl. Leave us be."

The Spirit Detective gaped as the three figures began slowly dissolving, until she was alone yet again (but had she ever been?) in the lobby. Staring after them, Sabrina suddenly let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. With a final heave, she pushed herself forward, tripping over her own feet and landing in an ungracious heap.

"What just happened here?" Sabrina mumbled, attempting to untangle her limbs and push bangs out from her face.

"You came to help us?"

Her head jerked upwards, looking for the source of the voice. Crouching next to her with a quizzical expression, was a small pinafore-clad girl who looked much like a slightly older and blonder Shirley Temple. Given the attitudes of the ghosts who had previously appeared, Sabrina would normally have been inclined to propel herself upward and away, but…

_She looks so…hopeful. Anxious, forlorn, and hopeful. Why is it she'll accept help, but not the others?_

"Yeah," Sabrina found herself saying breathlessly, a hand pressed futilely against her chest to calm her pounding heart.

"Can you fix the elevator?" the little girl asked, curiously.

Sabrina jerked back, almost by reflex, to look at the elevator that she'd almost fallen into. "The elevator?" she frowned._ What do they need an elevator for?_

As if to answer the teenager's thought, the small girl nodded, replying, "We have to get to the party." She nodded again, beginning to dissolve much as her cohorts had. Her eyes remained locked on Sabrina's until the last, faintly pleading.

Sabrina hauled herself into a sitting position, still struggling to catch her breath. Her hand clutched even more convulsively around the locket.

* * *

That was how Shinji found her several minutes later, when he emerged from the basement. He did a double-take when he saw her wide eyes and erratic breathing, and dashed over, nearly stumbling as he dropped to his knees by her side.

"_Daijobu ka_?" he asked breathlessly. Realizing he'd slipped back into Japanese, he clarified, "Are you okay?" He placed his hand on her shoulder, trying to peer into her face.

His voice snapped her out of whatever fear-induced daze she'd slipped into. Sabrina licked her dry lips, and nodded. "Yeah, I think." She swung her head up to face him. "I-I saw them. The ghosts," she clarified, seeing the puzzled expression on his face.

"You…you saw them?" Shinji gaped for a moment. "What did they look like? Did they say anything? Do anything?"

"They, uh, weren't exactly thrilled with my presence. And they let me know it." Shinji's expression darkened in anger, and the teenage witch hurriedly continued. "They didn't hurt me, just gave me a pretty bad scare. I told them that I was here to help, but they weren't interested. They seemed a bit upset, actually. Except for Sally."

"Wait, wait, one minute," Shinji interrupted softly. "You saw Sally Shine?"

The blonde nodded. "She asked me if I could fix the elevator, then said something about needing to go to a party."

The Japanese warlock chewed his lip for a moment. "The party the night they were killed? Is that what she was talking about?"

"I guess? But the party's been over for sixty years," Sabrina shook her head. "Why worry about it now?"

"It was the last thing that they were planning to do, right?" Shinji reminded her. "Maybe they can't forget it. You hear about ghosts like that all the time; they stay in one area and haunt it because of some connection or bond to that place that they cannot break. Sometimes there's some duty left unfulfilled and they can't rest in peace because of that."

Sabrina scratched her head. "Fixated ghosts…it certainly makes sense. They never made it to an event that they were looking forward to, and even in death, they want to go there so badly, that…"

"That they can't accept that they're dead?" Shinji suggested, switching to a sitting position to give his knees a rest. He placed his flashlight and a book beside him.

"Well, I wouldn't say that entirely. I think it has more to do with obsessing over that party. I wish I knew why it was so important, but the ghosts didn't exactly feel like participating in sharing time." She shuddered.

"It would probably be a good idea, then, to try and explore the room where the party was, right?" Shinji suggested. "If they're so obsessed with it, then it must be important."

"Good idea," Sabrina nodded, "but Sally said something about an elevator—**the** elevator," she corrected herself.

"**The** elevator?"

The teenage witch pointed to the empty elevator shaft that she had nearly fallen into. "Sally referred to that one specifically; she implied that the elevator was the only thing preventing them from going to the party."

He frowned. "But there are stairs, right?"

"My point exactly. Why that elevator in particular? Why that room? Again, we're finding more questions than answers."

The two Spirit Detectives sighed, Shinji dejectedly leaning his face on his hand and Sabrina slumping forward. It seemed that for every step they took forward on solving this mystery, they were presented with even more stepping stones to cross. After giving herself a minute, Sabrina heaved a sigh and pushed herself off the ground.

"Ready?" she asked Shinji. "We might as well try and make it to the upper floors and see if there's anything there. He grinned up at her.

"Ready when you are!"

* * *

True to what the ghost of Sally Shine had indicated to Sabrina, the main elevator was out of commission. Deciding that they'd rather not risk seeing if any of the secondary elevators worked—Chris hadn't turned the electricity on for a while, they'd been inactive for decades, after all—the two teenagers decided to take the stairs.

Slowly and surely, the two of them began to work their way through the various floors of the building. The hotel's second floor was mainly comprised of three various dining rooms, a ballroom, and an enormous kitchen. Sabrina did not so much as flinch at the few mice they ran across, but nearly lost her head when the duo almost walked into a gigantic spider's web featuring one of the largest (normal) spiders she'd ever seen. She managed to keep from bolting by squeezing Shinji's hand and shutting her eyes; Shinji didn't mind holding her hand, but winced at the welts she'd left behind. Sabrina had a surprisingly strong grip.

The guest rooms began on the third floor, and continued up until the twelfth. The thirteenth floor was exclusively used for the Tip Top Club. Sabrina had been able to scrounge up room keys for all the victims—excepting Claire Poulet and Dewey, of course—and for a few random rooms. She also took Carolyn Crosset's key, just in case.

Going through each floor one by one and seeking out the specific rooms was slow work. The hallways seemed claustrophobic in the dark; choked by dust-ridden carpets and tables and stringy remnants of spider's webs. The only light piercing the choking darkness belonged to their two flashlights. Although the ghosts made no second appearances, and they were untroubled by any sort of interference like Sabrina had found in Gracey Manor, it felt as though the two of them were being watched.

Determined not to look foolish in front of the other, both Spirit Detectives gritted their teeth and tried to pretend that the dark stillness and oppressive atmosphere didn't bother them. Eventually, some of their defenses broke down unconsciously, for by the sixth floor, they had begun holding hands. It was as much for reassurance that the other was still there and safe as for the need to know that there was someone there. And, of course, perhaps as much for the fact that Sabrina liked Shinji's warm smiles and he admired the spark in her gaze.

While slowly trekking through the halls, Sabrina and Shinji filled each other in on their respective discoveries. "…and that's where I found the diary; next to the stack of books and magazines," Shinji concluded his narrative. He paused a second before continuing. "I have heard of Edgar Allen Poe, but I found a lot of books by someone called H.P. Lovecraft…?" he ventured.

"Lovecraft?" Sabrina looked at him sideways, her eyebrows raised. "Ooooh, his stuff's creepy. Good, but creepy. He wrote back in the first couple decades of this century, mostly science fiction and horror. A lot of his stories were not only disturbingly creepy, but pessimistic. Lovecraft wrote a lot about forbidden knowledge, the inability to escape fate, guilt…powerful stuff."

"A little like Poe, wouldn't you agree?"

She paused. "A little. Certainly they wrote about some similar themes; although I'd say Poe was more of a Gothic writer. But what," she switched topics, "was a stack of horror and science fiction works doing in a child's hideaway?"

"They must have belonged to a child with very dark thoughts," Shinji grimly muttered, sweeping his flashlight at the next room number. "I didn't get a good look at the diary I found, but it might give us some clues. I think that someone so interested in that kind of literature—especially someone as young as a child—must have some kind of connection with this mystery. The dark nature of those books seems to connect to the dark…" he struggled for a moment before settling upon the word "atmosphere."

Sabrina nodded, pursing her lips in thought for a moment. "I wonder how many children or teenagers were living at the hotel at the time of the accident. It may be the link we're looking for." She was silent for a moment, and then switched subjects, mentioning the locket she'd found. "But the weirdest thing was that even though it was Claire Poulet's picture, it was someone else's luggage! A-" she racked her brain for a second, "a woman named Carolyn Crosset."

"Her mother, perhaps? Or a daughter?" Shinji suggested.

Sabrina shook her head. "There was no mention of any known relatives." She paused, looking thoughtful. "Come to think of it, there wasn't really much information in the file itself."

Shinji frowned briefly. "Could it be a second identity?"

"What do you mean?" The blonde looked at him curiously. "Like she's a con artist or something?"

"Well, no, I meant more like…like someone who becomes famous and then creates a new image. Or someone running from something, like the _yakuza_. Organized crime—like the mafia," he explained at her puzzled look.

"Someone…running from something…" she mused slowly. _Could it be… _"Do you think that maybe it wasn't Sally who was the target—it was Claire?" she asked sharply.

Shinji stopped for a moment, causing Sabrina to stop short. "It's a possibility," he admitted after a moment, "but only if we're assuming that the cause was…uh…what's the phrase? Bad play?"

"Foul play," Sabrina corrected. "And I don't know why, but I have a hunch. I mean, if I had an enemy, and I wanted to get rid of them, I'd use magic. But I'd use it in such a way as to leave no trail."

"And there is no trail," Shinji picked up where she left off. "There's no evidence except for a lot of magical residue concentrated where the elevator was. The result of spellcasting?"

"Maybe, but the caster of the spell would have to have been in the elevator itself. Unless he or she got zapped along with the target?"

"But that's stupid," Shinji pointed out. "Why do something like that since there's the obvious risk of hurting yourself?"

"True," Sabrina admitted. "There was a **lot** of residue, right?" Seeing his nod, she continued. "In that case, it could have been a long-distance spell. There are tons of those: curses, hexes, time-delayed spells, there could have even been an enchantment placed on the elevator itself. Who knows, maybe someone summoned an elemental." She groaned. "This is looking nastier and nastier."

"But they were all mortals; who among them could have cast a spell?"

"There are lots of witches who live in the Mortal Realm; maybe one of our victims ran afoul of one. The question is, which one of them, and who are we looking for? And how did they do it?"

"We may know the answer to that last question," Shinji said grimly. "You saw the video Drell gave us, right?"

"You don't think…" Sabrina trailed off, looking at him. Her eyes widened. "…The Twilight Zone?"

Shinji bit his lip as he watched her. Her incredulous gaze met his questioning one. The teenage witch's eyes dropped; her face assumed an expression of contemplation. "_There is a fifth dimension," _she began to slowly recite_, "beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call the Twilight Zone."_

"I'm impressed—you remembered the entire thing!"

She looked up at him, briefly smirking. "It seems too fantastical to believe," she mused, "that a theoretical magical dimension is to blame for the disappearance of a group of people."

"But that's where the clues have been leading," Shinji interjected eagerly. "Remember, the report said **otherworldly**. The report would have said i it had been from the Other Realm."

"And we're supposed to just blithely accept that the Twilight Zone is real? No proof?"

Shinji sobered at that. "It's just a high…high-po…how do you say it?"

"Hypothesis."

"Yes, it's just a hypothesis. But it's the answer that fits best."

_He may have a point, at that. Salem said that metaphysical science has been hinting at the possible existence of a fifth dimension for some time now. Investigators found otherworldly residue that doesn't match anything found in the Mortal or Other Realms. And we have the complete, utter disappearance of five mortals who had no connections to magic that we know of. We can't tie it to magic that we know of, and they would have been found if they had been transported to either of the realms. It's the best shot we've got._

"So, working on the assumption that the Twilight Zone does exist and is somehow involved," she began, "we still have several unanswered questions."

Shinji nodded. "We don't know how they were sent to the Twilight Zone—or if they were sent there or to another place."

"We also don't know **why** the Twilight Zone is involved, although the culprit probably has a strong connection to it."

"We don't know who was the target of the accident; if it was one person, two, or all of them. We also don't know what the motive behind the attack was."

"And a whole bunch of other loose ends: why Abigail's memories of the night of the attack are blocked, who Carolyn Crosset is and how she is connected to Claire Poulet, who the owner of that diary is, how do we open the trunk in the basement, what the deal is with Abigail's key, why the elevator is so important and how do we fix it, and…"

"And what?" Shinji asked, hearing her trail off.

"…and where the heck we are, because I think we're lost."

Shinji groaned.

* * *

Keep Sabrina's description of Lovecraft's works in mind. They'll be very important in understanding characterization later on…

Yeah, that little speech about the Twilight Zone comes straight from the show.

Next chapter: The secrets behind Sabrina's bizarre fluctuating psychic powers are revealed, as well as a few of the loose ends they've been investigating. And what is Shinji secretly plotting? Stay tuned!


	12. Five Characters in Search of an Exit

"...So we ended up wandering around for another hour before we found our way back to the exit on the main floor. It felt like months! It was so spooky in there that I thought I'd go nuts."

"I'm just glad to hear that you're all right, dear. Your Aunt Hilda and I were getting worried."

Sabrina's mouth drooped at the concern she heard in her aunt's voice. "I'm sorry, Aunt Zelda," she apologized, raking a hand through her mane of blond hair. "I didn't mean to worry you. I promise that we're going to try and take care of this as quickly as possible. Is everything okay at home?"

"We told the school that you'd caught the flu...I managed to obtain a doctor's note, so that's bought you some time," Zelda informed her.

"Wait...what doctor? Sabrina frowned briefly. "Wouldn't I need a check-up at an actual doctor's office to get a note?"

Her aunt chuckled softly. "Our Other Realm physician, dear. Drell was able to explain the situation, and we bewitched the note to appear as convincing as possible to mortal eyes." Zelda coughed before changing subjects. "Your friend Valerie has been dropping off your schoolwork for you, so you'll be able to catch up once you've returned home."

"Returning from chasing ghosts around a haunted hotel to a pile of homework? Sounds awesome," Sabrina sighed. _Wait...Valerie's been dropping off my work? _Sabrina swallowed before asking, "So...has Val...uh...asked about me?" She tried to phrase the question casually, but her tone wavered.

"She has," Zelda replied softly. "Multiple times, in fact. Valerie is very concerned for you, Sabrina. In fact, I had to get Hilda to disguise and throw her voice, pretending to be you, to allay some of her worry," she added in a wry tone.

"Huh," Sabrina rejoined, somewhat weakly. "You...uh...you don't say. Um, look, Aunt Zelda, I should probably get going, so, uh, I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"All right, dear. Hilda sends her love!"

"Love you guys, too. Bye!"

Sabrina hung up, staring at the wall glumly. "I feel like such an idiot," she mumbled softly.

_Valerie is such a good friend. She cares about me so much! She would never do anything to deliberately harm me or hurt my feelings. She's always been supportive._

_My relationship with Harvey isn't that stable. We're "off" more than we're "on," and honestly, that's not promising. I doubt that we would last together._

_I do feel uncomfortable that she's dating him, yeah. He's my ex and my friend, and she's also a friend. Knowing that she's doing the same things with him that I used to do does make me feel kind of awkward. But...I think the thing that I feel more uncomfortable about is that she didn't talk to me about it. That she didn't trust my friendship enough that she felt the need to hide this. I value her so much as a friend, so for her to do this kind of stings._

_Heh...and I've been letting Harvey off the hook here. I'm miffed that he didn't tell me, too. Can't put all the blame on Val._

_But I think I'm mad at myself most of all...losing control like that, throwing a tantrum, trying to run away from it... I can't believe myself sometimes. I'm more of an idiot than the two of them._

Sighing, she flopped onto the bed. "I need to talk to them when I get back," she said quietly. "I value their friendship too much to throw it away. I can't sulk because they have a chance at making it work...unlike me."

"Glad to hear you've wised up. Now, are we ever going to get to the bottom of that mystery, or are you and Pretty Boy going to wander around all week holding hands?"

Gasping at the sudden interruption, Sabrina bolted upright. She glared at the source of the comment, currently sunning himself in a chair by the window. "Salem, stop eavesdropping. And I thought you were asleep, anyway."

The black cat stretched, sliding his paws along the cushion. "It was just a cat nap. And with the way that you were giggling with Zelda over Shinji, how can anyone in a two-mile radius **not** hear you?"

"Sh-shut up!" Sabrina willed her cheeks to not turn pink, but ultimately failed. Embarrassed, she tried to regain composure the best way she knew how: throwing a pillow at her familiar.

With his usual fluid grace, the cat leaped out of the way, chortling. "Shinji and Sabrina! Shinji and Sabrina!"

"Argh!" Sabrina shoved her head under the other pillow to drown out her cat's laughing.

* * *

"I **told** you there were ghosts," Chris nodded sagely.

"We know, we know," Sabrina mumbled under her breath. "But seriously, now. I saw the ghosts of four of the accident victims!" she emphasized. "...Even if they didn't want to talk," she added morosely.

"That's an understatement," Shinji added, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "The weather is so hot!" he added. "It feels like it must be at least 30 Celsius."

The two teenage Spirit Detectives had met up with Chris at the Hotel's entrance again. Chris had brought another car to work on, and Shinji had volunteered to help him work on the...well...whatever it was they were working on; Sabrina had been paying more attention to the way Shinji had stripped down to his undershirt. Late October in Southern California, Chris had told them, could vary between 60 to 90 degrees Fahrenheit. The temperature had been steadily creeping up since they'd arrived six days ago, and it was reaching into the upper 80's.

So while she was a little more toasty than normal, at least she was getting a nice show right now. And Shinji somehow made having smudges of car oil and grease on one's face adorable.

For the past hour or so, they'd been tossing around theories and trying to decide on a plan of action. Sabrina had tried everything she could think of to coax Chris into helping, but each effort resulted in the same response: "Nuh-uh, chief. That place is **haunted**. Not going in."

"You're sure?" Sabrina asked for what felt like the hundredth, possibly thousandth time. "Even though your dearly departed grandfather is there? Think of all the things you could talk to him about, the family history you could learn! How your great-grandparents built the Hotel! What your grandmother's horse-training days were like!"

Chris gave a start at this last statement, tapping on something that squirted a jet of oil into his face. Grumbling under his breath, he fumbled for a towel, which Shinji handed to him. Vigorously scrubbing his face, he finally looked at Sabrina with a bewildered expression.

"How'd you know Granny used to train and show horses?" Chris asked her incredulously. "That was decades ago, before they had my dad."

The blonde girl froze for a moment, eyes widening. _How...how __**did**__ I know that? It just flashed in my mind, just out of the blue... _Gulping, she nervously ventured, "You...uh...told me yesterday?" She quickly gave him her most reassuring smile.

He stared at her blankly for a second. Shinji looked from the bewildered mechanic to the flustered girl and back with a quizzical expression. There seemed to be a single, thick moment of tension.

But as soon as that moment started, it ended. "Okay!" Chris nodded, accepting her statement. "I kinda ramble sometimes when I'm work, doesn't matter what I start talking about..." He continued on, obviously taking Sabrina's impromptu lie for truth. "...But like I said before, chief," he abruptly switching topics, "I don't do ghosts, man. No way, no how. Doesn't matter if it's George Washington, Marilyn Monroe, or even Grandpa Dewey. **No**. **Ghosts**."

Sabrina sighed gustily from her perch on a low stone bench on the terrace. "Fine, fine. Chicken," she grumbled under her breath. "But that still leaves Shinji and me with the responsibility of getting back in there and talking to these less-than-friendly specters. And if you recall, the last time I tried that, I barely made it out in one piece."

"You said that Sally was friendly, right?" Shinji pointed out. "Maybe we just need to focus on finding Sally."

"How?" Sabrina asked. "It's not like we have ghost-tracking tools or anything." _At least, not any more. If I had those psychic powers back, we might stand a chance. But as things stand now..._

"We don't need special tools," Shinji pointed out. "You said that they appeared when you went near the elevator, right?"

Sabrina frowned. "Yeah, they did. It was the first time that I'd actually gotten that close to it."

"Then all we need to do is examine the elevator!" he pointed out triumphantly. I'm sure we'll find them there."

_Why do I have a bad feeling about this?_ Sabrina wondered._ I hope they're in a better mood than before..._ She blanched at the prospect of facing the trio of wrathful ghosts for a second time.

Shinji noticed her less-than-enthusiastic expression. "Don't worry," he assured her, "I'll protect you!" He smiled encouragingly at her, eyes bright.

Sabrina just about **melted**.

* * *

"Will this place ever stop being creepy?" the teenage witch mumbled under her breath as she switched her flashlight on.

"Probably not," Shinji noted.

The two detectives had slipped inside the hotel's front door, leaving Chris outside with the car. This time, they planned to investigate the elevator and front desk, in hopes of drawing the ghosts out for a second time.

"But there's one thing that's bugging me," Sabrina frowned.

Shinji raised an eyebrow. "**One** thing?"

"Yeah," she replied offhandedly. "If the ghosts didn't want us here, and if they wanted to make their presence known, why didn't they show up when we first walked around here on Tuesday? And why would they appear to just one of us, not both?"

"Huh," said Shinji, pursing his lips in thought. "Because we showed up for a second time and they wanted to warn us to leave? Maybe?"

The American witch shook her head. "We were there for at least an hour before anything happened. And it still doesn't explain why they revealed themselves to me and not you."

Shinji moved his flashlight in an arc, slowly illuminating the contents of the lobby. The light pierced the dusky atmosphere of the room, revealing the planter, reception desk, and luggage cart. "Well, I still believe it was because you went near the elevator...wait, didn't you tell me that you were looking at the luggage?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I was going through the suitcases to look for anything useful, and then..." she gasped suddenly. "The locket!" Sabrina hurriedly dug into her pockets, then ripped her backpack off and dug through it. After rummaging for a few moments, she pulled it out of a front compartment with a triumphant gesture. "Ta-da!" she announced, holding it in the air.

"Yes, you mentioned you found a locket with Claire Poulet's photograph," Shinji nodded. "In another person's luggage?"

"Somebody named Carolyn Crosset, to be specific. But," she continued eagerly, pushing herself off the ground, "**I was holding it the entire time**."

Shinji looked at her in confusion. "I do not see...oh!" A look of understanding dawned on his face. "You think that they attacked you because you took the locket?"

Sabrina turned the locket over in her hands, rubbing the etching on the front with her thumb. "I still think that they have some sort of fixation with the elevator, but maybe taking the locket was a catalyst?" She stopped, looking thoughtful. "A catalyst...For them? Or...for me?"

"Uh...Sabrina? What are you talking about?" Shinji looked at her curiously, head tilted slightly to one side.

"It's...uh...well, you see..." Sabrina trailed off, unsure of how exactly to explain herself. _Well, there's nothing like the direct approach. _"I sometimes have psychic powers."

Shinji's eyes nearly bugged out of his head as he took a stumbling step backwards. "You...have **psychic powers**? Are you **serious**?"

She sighed, stepping towards him to put her hand reassuringly on his shoulder. "Have a seat and I'll explain," she said firmly, steering him to a nearby couch.

* * *

"So what you're telling me is that you've not only seen and talked to ghosts before, but you have ESP, but it's only happened once before?" Shinji leaned towards her from his seat on the couch, elbows resting on his thighs. His dark brown eyes burned with curiosity.

"In a nutshell, yes." Sabrina had spent the last twenty minutes or so giving him an abbreviated recap of the Gracey Manor incident, choosing to focus more on her interactions with the ghostly inhabitants and the bizarre new powers that she had gained (and subsequently lost) than on the dark warlock she had defeated._ I have a feeling that this story should be saved for another day. And not when I'm in a place that makes me feel like malicious ghosts are going to pop out from any corner!_

She cleared her throat, banishing all thoughts of Atticus Thorne from her mind for now. "I guess that you could term the abilities I developed ESP, but it would depend on your definition." She shrugged lightly. "But I could read spiritual imprints on objects, view events that had previously occurred, and I could...'see' things. People, objects, events," she clarified. "Things happening in the present." Biting her lip, she rolled the locket between her fingers, warming the metal.

"But these powers...didn't stay," Shinji said slowly. "And you don't know why?"

"They vanished sometime after I left the Mansion, maybe while I was recovering afterward. I've thought and thought, and I can only guess at one possible solution." Sabrina lifted her eyes to meet his. "Remember how I told you earlier that I thought that the locket was a catalyst for the ghosts' appearance? Well, I've been thinking. What if it's the same with me, in a way? What if being around them...triggers these psychic powers?"

"What you said to Chris this morning..." he trailed off.

"I think that it's started to happen again. It's possible that they didn't go away, but that they just lay dormant since I wasn't around ghosts anymore."

"Okay...so if your guess is correct, we will be able to find the ghosts-"

"With these powers," Sabrina interrupted. "Either by trying to somehow use my abilities, or by waiting to see if they grow stronger. If the latter occurs, we'll know that we're getting closer to their presence." She grinned triumphantly, although her smiled dimmed after a moment. "I'm sorry," she said in an uncomfortable tone. "This must seem really strange to you."

Shinji laughed and shook his head. "I think it's amazing," he said. "It's unexpected, but not strange." He gave her another one of his warm smiles, seeming to look at her in a new light.

_Whew...I was a little worried how he'd take it. Not many witches have psychic powers, and those that do...well, they're looked at as oddities at best. I was hoping that I would never have to bring it up because I was worried about his reaction. But now that I know that he's okay with it...I feel glad. I'm not sure what I would have done if he had been creeped out by it because..._

"Sabrina?"

"Eh?" Sabrina jerked her head to face Shinji, her bangs fluttering against her face.

"Are you okay? You seemed to be very thoughtful for a minute."

Her cheeks heated a little at being caught lost in her thoughts. And maybe they were heated a little because of the nature of those thoughts, but that was a subject that she didn't have time to go into right now. As it was, she and Shinji had been in Hollywood for six days now. While they had several hypotheses regarding the nature of the disappearance, they were no closer to discovering the actual facts. They had a witness with amnesia, a mysterious key that may or may not be important, and victims who could ostensibly be talked to but who resisted attempts at help. Oh, and a broken elevator that apparently was the key to all this, if the ghost of a eight-year-old child film star was to be believed.

If only for the sake of their sanity, it was in their best interest to push forward and solve this as quickly as possible. Before any **other** strange things happened, that is.

"Don't worry about it; I'm fine," she said firmly. "Let's get started looking for those ghosts. There's quite a bit of ground to cover, but we know that they have to be in here."

"Right," Shinji agreed as he pushed himself off the couch. Faint tendrils of dust rose off of the couch as he stood. He brushed his hair out of his face, scanning the room. "Should we start at the elevator, like we discussed earlier?"

"I think it would be best. It was the last place I saw them, and if the elevator is as important to them as we think it is, it might draw them out." Sabrina adjusted her backpack, and took a deep breath to steady herself. She turned to face Shinji, trying to grin encouragingly and quell the feeling of butterflies in her stomach. "Let's do this!"

He smiled back at her, a warm look lighting his eyes.

The two of them began to slowly make their way towards the elevator, with cautious and measured steps. They soon were standing before it, eying it with a mixture of curiosity, apprehension, and fear.

Sabrina raised the hand holding the locket and closed her fingers around it. She pressed her fingers against the metal, feeling it warm under her touch. The young witch took a slow breath, and began trying to consciously utilize her ESP. She hadn't really tried to use it on her own before; the powers had just seemed to activate on their own according to the situation. For a moment, she felt at a loss for what to do. But in a flash of sudden insight, she closed her eyes.

It was hard to describe, she thought, but she had a sudden urge to press her consciousness forward, like the ripples made by dropping a stone into a pond. Slowly, and carefully, she began to drift forward into the inky darkness before her closed eyes.

The Japanese warlock by her side watched, fascinated, as the girl's breathing slowed to a deep and meditative rhythm. She appeared to be wholly and intently focused, completely at peace. Slowly, as if in a trance, her other arm lifted, hand reaching upward towards the elevator door. Her fingers were outstretched, seeking the cool metal panel before her.

_Is it just me, or is she sort of...glowing?_ Shinji thought to himself_ It doesn't look like any type of spellcasting I've seen before...a little like meditation, but... This is fascinating!_

Her fingers made contact with the door, pressing lightly. Sabrina began trying to mentally "press" the door._ Show me,_ she thought._ Show me what I want to see. This locket contains the memories and energy of someone I want to meet. Help me find her, wherever she is in this place._

A sudden rattling broke the silence in the room.

Sabrina, deeply engrossed in focusing her powers upon the elevator, didn't notice. But Shinji whipped around to face the source of the noise—the reception desk. He watched, struck still, as an inkwell jerked around the surface of the desk on its own. It shook, dancing around in crazy patterns.

"Don't...don't do this..." Shinji whispered, his throat suddenly dry. "Just stop. Please."

The inkwell violently slammed onto its side, ebony liquid spilling out onto a blank ledger page. Tendrils of liquid snaked out further onto the page, curling and thinning and forming words:

**GET OUT**.

"We're here to HELP!" Shinji frantically yelled, his temper fraying. "_Mou, yamete_! Just stop already!"

There was silence for a moment. The inkwell then slowly tipped itself upright once more. The ledger page then began to crumple itself up into a ball, ink quickly saturating through the paper.

Shinji's heart thudded against his ribcage, and he licked his dry lips. His mouth felt completely parched, tongue like sandpaper. "Is this some kind of joke?" he growled, voice wavering more than he would have liked it to.

"Oh, I assure you, old man..." a masculine voice drawled out of nowhere, dripping with a posh British accent.

Shinji jumped a little in surprise, looking around for the source of the voice.

"...this is no joke." The air seemed to ripple, as a dark figure formed out of nothing. Shinji moved in front of Sabrina, blocking her from the figure.

"Sabrina!" Shinji hissed, reaching behind him to grip her arm. "Sabrina! _Look_! It's...it's a..." She didn't answer; didn't seem to notice, really. She was deep within whatever meditative process she was using to find that woman's ghost.

The dark figure took another step forward, then paused. The material comprising it-whatever it was-seemed to ripple and shift before settling. The features of the figure slowly became more distinct, like a photograph developing. Standing before the two teenagers was a tall, dark-haired man clad in a tuxedo. He glared at them, his body language practically dripping with scorn and condescension.

_Breathe, Shinji. Breathe. Don't show him that you're rattled. Don't show fear. They can smell that. …Or was that dogs?_

Shinji took a shallow breath, trying desperately to save face in front of the strange man. He almost laughed out loud at the momentary realization that he wasn't afraid of the man himself, but rather afraid of letting him have the upper hand._ Fine, pop out of thin air all you want. Pull all the cheap tricks you can think of to try and scare us away. I'm not giving in and I'm not budging. _Shinji set his jaw and glared back._ That's right; I can take whatever you throw at me and send it back. Just try._

The tension was palpable for a moment as the three stood there: Sabrina still intently divining, and Shinji and the ghost staring each other down. It was a moment that felt like eternity.

But just as abruptly, the strange ghost tossed his head back and laughed. It was a short, barking laugh; but it was genuine, and Shinji could see the man's shoulders relax. He felt the tension drain from his own body, nerves still feeling somewhat raw. He relaxed his grip on Sabrina's arm, but still warily watched the other man.

The ghost chuckled to himself again briefly, before slipping one hand into a trouser pocket. "Well," he mused as he surveyed Shinji, "you do have quite the backbone, don't you?" The scornful look on his face was replaced with a more guarded, shrewd expression. Shinji got the sudden feeling that this was a man who prided himself on his reserve and stoicism._ He's a hard one to figure out, I bet._

"I suppose that kudos are in order for you and your companion," the ghost continued. "Others have visited the grounds in pursuit of their own goals, but you are the first to make it inside the hotel. Come to think of it, I have not spoken to one of the living in decades..." he trailed off momentarily, before turning his inscrutable gaze more closely on Shinji and Sabrina.

It was then that Shinji realized the the man standing before them looked as though he had literally stepped from a black-and-white photograph. He was solid as well, and if it weren't for the fact that his entire being had no color whatsoever, Shinji would have sworn that the man was alive.

"You might want to wake your friend up," the ghost said slowly. "If she is, as I surmise, attempting to summon us, she has already succeeded. She does not need to continue."

Shinji cautiously slide his eyes sideways to Sabrina's quiet and still figure. He wasn't sure yet if this ghost could entirely be trusted; he needed to be careful. "Sabrina?" he asked quietly. "Sabrina, can you hear me?"

Her eyes were still closed, face calm but frozen. Shinji shook her shoulder slightly. "It's okay, we found one of them. Please, wake up." Still nothing.

With a weary sigh, as though he was being vastly inconvenienced, the ghost silently stepped over to her and tapped her once on the shoulder. Sabrina's eyes immediately flew open, a look of shock spreading across her face.

"It worked!" she blurted out. Then she caught a glimpse of the ghost and blinked. "Okay, it sort of worked."

"Oh, it worked, all right," the ghost replied dryly. "Now..." he began to circle around the two witches, sizing them up. "I have a few questions that I've been **dying **to ask you. You could begin with telling me who you are and why you're here." The ghost stopped, pinning them with a stony gaze. "I'd be much obliged if you would cooperate."

"I told you before. We're here to help you," Shinji frustratedly reiterated.

Sabrina laid a hand on Shinji's arm in a calming gesture. He turned to face her, his gaze full of frustration and tension. She closed her eyes and shook her head, indicating that he should back off for a moment.

She cleared her throat and made direct eye contact with the ghost. "My name is Sabrina Spellman. My friend and partner is Shinji Yamagi. We've been sent here by the Witches' Council of the Other Realm to investigate the mysterious disappearance that happened several decades ago. **Your **disappearance, in fact." She paused for a moment to let it sink in. "You **are **Gilbert London, right?"

The man actually quirked a smile at that, albeit a small and self-satisfied one. "My reputation precedes me, I see. Or perhaps you are a fellow devotee of the arts? Anyone with culture and taste would obviously have heard of the esteemed Gilbert London. I confess myself surprised to find someone of that refinement here in the States."

"I recognized you from the publicity photo my boss gave me," Sabrina dryly replied._ Wow, this guy's ego is taller than the Hotel. He and Salem would either get along like oil and water or be best friends. And I don't think I care to find out which one it is..._

"Ah." London arched an eyebrow and coolly examined her again, clearly trying to determine for himself whether or not she was of sufficient taste to warrant further conversation. He then paused, seeming to recall something. "Now, wait a moment...witches? Another Realm? My dear girl, what are you playing at?"

Sabrina sighed, realizing that this was not going to be an easy conversation. "I know that this sounds ridiculous, and that since you're a human-or you used to be one, anyway-that the idea of another world is a little weird..."

"It's bloody ludicrous, is what it is," he replied sharply. "I can accept the existence of the soul and its endurance after death-I'm living proof-but your fairy stories of magic and nonsense are laughably misplaced."

"They are not **fairy stories**!" Sabrina could feel her cheeks warm and the back of her neck prickle. This uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach reminded her of sophomore year, when Libby Chessler began taking every opportunity possible to confront and mock her._ Don't get defensive. Be firm and calm. Don't get hysterical. Don't let him wind you up._

She took a shuddering breath, trying to relax her stomach muscles. At the same time, Shinji stepped forward, eyes narrowed at London. He opened his mouth, clearly to deliver a remark to the older man, when...

"Stop it! Don't pick on her!"

Both witches stopped in their tracks, and looked at each other. The butterflies in Sabrina's stomach dissipated, and Shinji's eyes widened. Neither of them had spoken those words.

The air shimmered for a moment, before rippling like a pool of water. Another figure began to materialize between the teenagers and the ghost. It was smaller and lighter; a shade of soft, pearly grey. In a moment, the figure of a small girl stood before them, hands outstretched in a pleading gesture.

"Sally," Sabrina mumbled.

Sally Shine looked back and forth between the Detectives and London, a pleading expression on her face. "Please don't fight," she begged. "They're here to help, Mr. London. Please don't make them leave."

London shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

_Huh. Jerk though he may be, it looks like he's got a bit of a soft spot. Or it takes shameless begging to make him feel guilt, _Sabrina briefly pondered.

A long moment passed before London finally grunted out, "Very well." He turned and stiffly walked towards the wall. Sally quietly watched London lean against a pillar and look out the window before she turned her attention back to the teenage witches.

"You came back," Sally said in awe. "I was so worried that you wouldn't. I kept trying to tell the others to stop, I really did, but they wouldn't listen, and I'm so sorry and-"

"Whoa, whoa," Sabrina held her hands up to stem the torrent of words. "Calm down. Just take your time and relax. I promise we're not going anywhere."

Sally nodded, clutching her hands together. She looked from Sabrina's face to Shinji's and back again. "Are you sweethearts?" she blurted out. "Because you stand awful close to each other and you blush all the time and smile at each other, and it's just like Mr. London and Miss-"

"That's enough!" London growled from his spot.

The little ghost pouted, but ceased her queries. Sabrina's face felt like it was on fire, she was blushing so hard._ This is the most precocious 8-year-old I've ever met. She...oh my gosh, was she watching us? So she knows that I kinda like him, and he...Shinji maybe likes me that way, too? _Sabrina coughed nervously, not trusting herself to look at Shinji right now without turning as red as a tomato (and if she had looked at him, she would have noticed his furious blushing). "Uh...ahem. Er, no. No, we are not sweethearts."_ Not yet, anyway,_ a voice in the back of her mind cackled.

"Oh." Sally looked faintly crestfallen. But being young, she didn't stay disappointed for too long and switched to another topic. "So you came to find us? You really came looking for us?"

"Yes." Shinji knelt down to be closer to Sally's eye level. "We're here to help you. All of you. So...You said that you needed to go to the party?"

Sally nodded vigorously. "We have to get there. Everybody's waiting for us."

"But, Sally..." Sabrina trailed off, not sure how to phrase her statement. "It's 1999, Sally. The party ended 60 years ago."

"Not for us, it hasn't."

It was almost becoming second nature by now to have new voices chiming in all the time. A third figure appeared out of thin air, shadows rippling and swirling to eventually reveal a stout, middle-aged woman.

_The nanny,_ Sabrina realized.

Emmaline Partridge strode forward before planting herself firmly by Sally's side. She dropped her sturdy black umbrella to rest on the floor like a cane, and pushed her glasses further up her nose. She looked at the two teenagers suspiciously.

"Mimi, it's okay!" Sally chirped. "They're nice, and they came to help, and they want to take us to the party!"

Ms. Partridge didn't seem to hear her charge as she continued to size up the Detectives. "It's still there," she continued. "We can hear them, every Halloween night. Music and laughter, and voices calling for us to hurry. It's torture-" she cut herself off suddenly. "But why am I telling you this? What care have you for the troubles of the dead?"

"We're witches," Sabrina said bluntly. "And we've been sent to help you. So what you're telling me is that you're all fixated ghosts?"

"If that's what you call it, then yes." Ms. Partridge frowned slightly. "We cannot...**move** from here, for lack of a better word. We cannot go outside the hotel. We cannot go to the top floor. We don't know how to pass on to our rest." She looked straight at Sabrina, her eyes weary and haunted. "We are trapped."

"If you work together with us," Sabrina said slowly, "we will do everything in our power to help you reach that party and then move on to whatever awaits you. But we can't do any of that unless you trust us."

The teenage witch slowly extended her hand towards the woman's ghost. "Will you do it?"

Emmaline Partridge looked deeply into Sabrina's eyes, then into Shinji's. Behind her, London was slowly gravitating towards the group, trying desperately to look uninterested but unable to hide the faint gleam of hope in his gaze. Sally edged closer to her nanny, clasping onto the side of her coat and looking upwards with an eager expression.

"You...are the first ones in sixty years..." Ms. Partridge said slowly. She stopped again, and the two Spirit Detectives looked at her expectantly. Which would win? Her distrust and hopelessness? Or the fervent desire to be saved?

After a long moment, Ms. Partridge extended her hand to gently rest upon Sabrina's. "Please," she said thickly, as though she were fighting back tears. "Please save us. You are our only hope."

* * *

The hour was beginning to grow late, and the sun threw long shadows upon the Hotel lobby's floor. Both groups reached a quick agreement to meet the next morning (and without any attempts to spook the Spirit Detectives away) to begin formulating a plan. "This Saturday is Halloween," Sabrina reminded everyone solemnly. "We've got to make the most out of tomorrow so we can be ready in time."

The ghosts chose to make their exit by simply disappearing, which Shinji found to be less and less disconcerting each time it happened._ Isn't it strange how you can get used to such weird things happening?_ He and Sabrina gathered their things and began preparing to leave, with the blond witch slipping ahead to talk to Chris.

"Hey! Hey, Mr. Shinji."

Something soft and cool touched his arm, and Shinji yelped. He quickly realized that Sally had re-materialized and was bouncing up and down eagerly. "Uh, sorry," he tried to laugh off his initial reaction. "What is it?"

"You're not sweethearts, yet, but you're stuck on Miss Sabrina, right?" Sally chirped.

Shinji's mind was whirling at this point._ This kid is persistent! Maybe she fancies herself to be a little matchmaker? If I was a ghost stuck in a deserted hotel for 60 years, I'm sure I'd be desperate for something to do. But still...well, she's totally right. Funny how kids usually are._

"Okay, okay, you win," he groaned, holding his arms up in mock defeat. He squatted down to look her in the eye. "Nobody can get anything past you, huh?"

Sally laughed, delighted. "Nope! I'm the best!"

Shinji shook his head, grinning. "You sure are. Now, what do you want me to do?"

"Ummm," Sally stopped to think for a moment, biting her thumb. "You should go do something romantic! Like a fancy restaurant, or the park!"

"So I should ask her out on a date?"_ Even though she's trying to dictate my love life, Sally is adorable. No wonder everybody loved her,_ Shinji thought, looking at the little girl fondly.

"Ab-so-lute-ly! And the sooner, the better! Tonight! You should do it right now!" Sally shook her finger at him. "If you don't, she'll get away!"

"All right, all right. I'll go ask her right now." Shinji reached out to ruffle her hair, and stopped when he realized that his hand went through the top of her head. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly.

* * *

Sabrina glanced at Shinji out of the corner of her eye. He'd been rather pensive for most of the walk home. She'd left before him to tell Chris that they wanted to come back tomorrow, and waited by the gate for her partner after the mechanic had left. Shinji had ambled out the door, apologizing for being late, but explained that Sally had wanted to talk some more.

After that, they had walked back in companionable silence.

_I wonder what he's thinking. Sally, huh? ...Omigosh, I wonder if he's thinking about what she said earlier? About us being sweethearts? And how she thinks that I like him? I mean, I kind of do, so it's not like Sally was lying, but she really shouldn't say things like that out loud, even though she did say that maybe he likes me, too, so I guess it's okay and-_

"Sabrina?"

The teenage witch jumped, knocked out of her rambling internal dialogue. "I'm here!"

They were almost back at the Cayuga, and Shinji had stopped under a streetlight. He was looking at her curiously, and maybe a little...fondly?

"That's...um...good to know." Shinji stopped, and frowned, as if trying to decide what to say next.

_Why is this so hard_? he mentally howled._ I've asked out tons of girls. I'm not some tongue-tied moron? So why am I so nervous?_

"I...was thinking," he began.

"Uh-oh, that's dangerous," Sabrina quipped, flashing a teasing smile.

Shinji grinned back. "Well, I was thinking that you and I could...uh...go. Um, go to dinner."

"We've been going to dinner every night," Sabrina pointed out._ ...Wait a second._

"Yes, we have gone to dinner. But not together," Shinji tried to elaborate.

"There's only the two of us. We can't take Salem out of the hotel." _Is this what I think it is?_

"A date!" he blurted out. "I want to take you to dinner on a date!"_ Damn, that was nowhere near as cool or suave as I wanted that to be. Please don't let her think that was stupid...please..._

Sabrina's lips curved up in a soft smile._ Okay, definitely what I thought it was. It's actually kind of cute that it took him that long to spit it out._ "That sounds perfect."

Shinji's entire face brightened and the biggest, sunniest grin that she'd ever seen spread across his face. "Meet me at the hotel lobby? 8?"

"You're on!" she began walking briskly toward the hotel. "Gotta get ready!" she called over her shoulder.

Shinji stood and watched her head down the sidewalk._ I did it. She said yes. She might be interested in me the same way._

As he followed her, he may or may not have done a little victory dance.

* * *

AN – Has it really been an entire year since this got updated? Ouch. I couldn't help poking a little fun at myself in this first paragraph for leaving our Detective stranded in the Hotel for that long, heh.

Anyway, you'll note that I've finally begun to explain some of the questions you guys had about this fic-series earlier. Sabrina's powers originate from a part of her brain that normally doesn't get used, but that is activated when it comes into contact with pure spiritual residue, such as ectoplasm (spiritual energy of ghosts, in this series). Hence, her powers lie dormant when not in contact with this type of energy.

There are five chapters left in this fic (Epilogue included), and my goal is to have them up by the end of this year at the absolute latest. All previous chapters have (as of this chapter) been revised and re-uploaded. This was probably the hardest chapter to write, since I had to cram so many ideas, plot points, and characters in, but I'm glad it's finally done! Things are starting to become less hectic in my personal life, so I have more writing time. I've finally been able to secure a great entry-level job in my field (pay and hours aren't that terrific, but it's the exact institution and type of position I wanted), so I now have more structured time. This means I can usually write during my breaks and other down time, if there's no other pressing work to be done.

Oh, and just in case anyone is confused about the timeline in this story: Chapter 6 starts on a Saturday, and the two Detectives leave for California later that day. Chapter 7 is Sunday, Chapter 8 is Monday, Chapter 9 is Tuesday, Chapters 10 and 11 are Wednesday, and this chapter is Thursday. Halloween is on Saturday.

I want to thank everybody who kept reading this story and favoriting it during my hiatus. It was nothing short of mind-boggling to have people still reading even while my stuff was slipping into the cracks of obscurity.

(As a side note, I can't help slipping random Japanese phrases in. I can't speak Japanese, but some of my friends (and Google Translate) do, and that's enough for me. What does that make me? Dunno, but if a character is bilingual, it makes sense to have them speak at least SOME of their native language at times. "_Mou yamete_" = "Stop that," or "That's enough.")

(Second side note: Writing Shinji's dialogue is **hard**. In the Sabrina comics' "manga reboot"-which this is partially based off of-Shinji fluently speaks English, and uses the same idioms and speech patterns that a native speaker of American English would. You get used to it, but it's a bit jarring when you realize that in the real world, the only way he'd speak like that would be if he was raised in America-which he wasn't. I've tried to make it a little more realistic in this fic: Shinji speaks English as a second language, so he isn't going to speak it the same way Sabrina does. He's a little more stilted, his vocabulary is different, he isn't as likely to use contractions, doesn't know the same idioms, etc. His dialogue will change, though, over the course of the other fics. Again, naturally reflecting what happens when you spend a lot of time with someone who speaks another language. The more you practice, the more you learn and the better you get at speaking it. That's the goal I have in mind, at least, but in the meanwhile, I sometimes stop and look at the dialogue I'm writing. I wonder if it makes him sound really old or something! Just some thoughts to share.)

Next chapter: Shinji and Sabrina hit the town on their big date, where sparks fly! Preparations are also made for Abigail to confront her fears...


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